"A Thief's View of the City"

Charging down the cobbled roads, Sweeney Todd looked back. He could hear the secret police's footsteps coming closer. There was no hope now. They were so close he could smell them. In a few seconds it would be all over and he would be for the gallows. Then he spotted something on the side of the road. It was an empty fish barrel. Well it looked empty so he dived in.

       "Hey, there's something in here," he said to himself. Just then the secret police burst into the alley.

       "Where did he go." The police looked around then walked down a gloomy side-street. After a few minutes he got out of the barrel. He looked around then walked on. Walking through dark alleys, gloomy streets and dirty squares was what Sweeney did most. He was a thief, a pickpocket, a highway man and a murderer. That was why he was running through the streets to safety. He knew the streets well and he also knew that if he could get to Rippsmann's Tavern he would be safe. Darting through Plum Street he was nearly there. Just three more streets to go. While running, he thought about the city. Dark, gloomy, dreary, miserable, drab and dismal were all of the words Sweeney could think of to describe it. Dirty and dusty people living in tatty houses. Arriving at the tavern he gasped. It was closed! The tavern was a well known place in the city. Grotty and grimy it was where most of the well known criminals hung out. Then he saw something. It was a small fishing boat tied up in the river. He climbed aboard and rowed into the middle of the water to safety.

       He was pretty sure that the police would not follow him. Indeed he thought that he had once again got away. In his heart of hearts he knew that that was untrue, he knew that he was a marked man. He decided to go elsewhere.

       As he escaped he looked out to sea, the way he had suddenly chosen to escape.

       "The next place will be better, I can start again, I shall leave this dirty city and all my dirty crimes behind me," he thought.

[My Mum found this and passed it on to me this week. As it came with a Beaver Scout certificate for "completing 10 Beaver projects" in March '95, the story was probably written when I was 8 years old. I have resisted the urge to edit punctuation and grammar. It's cool to see that I had a preoccupation with villains as early as then. It's less cool to see that my writing hasn't improved all that much in 21 years.]

Untitled piece for Supermarket

Not sure what this will be called yet. Hopefully not 'Monetize Me, Baby'. The chorus is yet to be finalized at the chords didn't lend themselves to working out lyrics on a train with singing.
----------


I've got a clunking limp, I'm going to monetize it
I've got a crooked grin, I'm going to monetize it
I've got a wandering eye, I'm going to monetize it
I've got a wicked lie, I'm going to monetize it

It's a sacrilegious sentiment balanced on your back
It's a chiffon struggle with your heart on tap
You're a keen little whistler with dismay in your lap
Oh monetize me baby oh yeah just like that

I've got to think you through, and the others
Why don't you tell me? Tell me to my face
I've got to think you through and through
Why don't you tell me about the boy and the buzzsaw

Domain authority, I'm going to monetize it
Domain authority, I'm going to monetize it
Domain authority, I'm going to monetize it
Domain authority, I'm going to monetize it

It's a sacrilegious sentiment spilling out the crack
It's a chiffon struggle that's integral to your act
You're a keen little whistler carrying a strap
Oh monetize me baby oh yeah just like that

Kerfuffle

This is for RDDC. And is possibly a working title.

--------
There’s a north wind blowing in the eaves again
There’s a crossfire strafing down the hall again
There’s a loud crowd banging on the doors again
And I’m reaching for more ibuprofen
Towers are swaying in the storm again
Company of wolves leaves the cinema again
A drop of blood and tea-rings stain the page again
This hurly burly is not done

And again, time and time again
You put your nose out of doors
And again, time and time again
It never, it never goes

Oh the spiders want to scuttle home
I’m a spider, please take me home
Please take me home

Hippopotami count the calories again
Carrion crow orders takeaway again
Alligator chat shit and get banged again
And I’m shouting like a librarian
We’re jumping out our second skins again
We are lining our stomachs up with cash again
Sucking up the shooters, shots, and bombs again
Us leopards take out another mortgage

And again, time and time again
We nearly come to blows
And again, time and time again
We never, we never go

Oh the spiders want to scuttle home
I’m a spider, please take me home
Please take me home

Tangled up in our webs
Barely connected by fingertips
For all our eyes we are blind to our binding

Commuting draft poem 2

These two poems were mainly written to pass the time and practice writing poems to specificish metres, rather than making any "big" points. Probably influenced a wee bit by Brian Bilston.

* * * * * * * *

EGO TO PLEASE

Walking out beside the sea

My own voice in my ears

I close my eyes and take in those

Imaginary cheers

Our latest record is complete

New songs to celebrate

Potent lyrics with every word

Sung with delicious weight

It sounds like something new and special

Intelligent and brave

Something vital and important

Something worth a save

Something that this rigid poem

Cannot hope to match

Something fluid and exciting

And far more up to scratch

I wonder though if all of this

Is biased to my taste

And only seems so beautiful

Because it bears my face

And if another person’s voice

I’d heard beside the sea

Those songs would not seem so anthemic

As they weren’t sung by me.

Commuting draft poem 1

Wrote a couple of things on the train home over the last fortnight. Soon to become things of the past as my office looks like it's moving to Brighton (hoorah!)

* * * *

FOR MY FELLOW COMMUTERS

Morning has broken my head into tiny little pieces

Each piece has fallen underneath the wheel that never ceases

Spinning, eroding, grinding again day after day

No matter how hard I try, I can’t get out of the way

So I’m sitting here, waiting for time to mend my head

A process that begins with getting myself out the bed

A process that continues with getting on this train

A process that finally ends when work numbs all the pain

But with the process underway, peace is now required

The process has the most effect when undergone in quiet

So do your best to understand me and maintain the silence

For otherwise I am required to resort to some violence

And break your inconsiderate head into little pieces too

And the police will understand there's none to blame but you

And if there is something in this that still does not compute

I’d appreciate it if you could put the ‘mute’ in this ‘commute’

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

It is far too early for this

The sun falls with my spirit as the day runs out its course

I’m filled with nothing but empty carbohydrates and remorse

The planet rotates me like a prize hog upon a spit

Each day I feel a bit more tender, I’m aching where I sit

I look forward to sitting somewhere more comfy than there

Upon a throne that takes me home from 9-5 despair

The day was full of busying and hurrying and noise

All sorts of ruckus and alarm no-one ever enjoys

I’m tired of all this chaos and I’m seeking some more peace

A slow and silent slumber where the office chatters cease

So please respect my lethargy and forgive my malaise

For if you don’t I’ll rouse myself to bad barbaric ways

All I want is to go gently into this good night

Don’t stop me or I’ll rage at more than the dying of the light

And if there is something in this that still does not compute

I’d appreciate it if you could put the ‘mute’ in this ‘commute’

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

Pleasekeepyourmouthshut

It is far too late for this

Out Of The Tar Pit

A cautionary tale of what happens when a violent dinosaur is given a second chance to get behind the wheel of a car. I reserve the right to cut down any of this if it is too difficult to sing/shout.

Me and my friends, wrongdoing is our fancy

And we were fed up of kicking our heels around town

Thought that we’d turn to some necromancy

And attempt to raise a dinosaur from the ground

We got a pentagram and some candles to burn

We couldn’t get a goat so we sacrificed the intern

Out of the pit it came, lurching and wretched

It didn’t take long for us to start to regret it

He was a monster (out of the tar pit!)

He was a brutal beast (out of the tar pit!)

It all went too far (out of the tar pit!)

It hotwired a car (out of the tar pit!)

It seems like we’re finished and we’ve only just started

An ill-advised full return for the departed

And we’re never gonna get those stains out of the carpet

The ones made when that fucker came out of the tar pit!

The dinosaur was driving without a care in the world

It was a car against humanity, a war flag unfurled

The spectacle was terrible, we didn’t think it through

Horror’s only entertaining when it’s not happening to you

We thought it would be funny and no one would get hurt

But when we asked for merchandise we didn’t want to wear the shirt

Everybody loves to hear the sound of car crashes

Except for when they’re woken by the lights and the flashes

He was inhumane (out of the tar pit!)

An atrocity exhibition (out of the tar pit!)

Spoilt like old milk (out of the tar pit!)

Gaston’s ilk (out of the tar pit!)

It seems like we’re finished and we’ve only just started

An ill-advised full return for the departed

And we’re never gonna get those stains out of the carpet

The ones made when that fucker came out of the tar pit!

Violent scum

Not fit to lick my crumbs

A banner beast for the out of date

Unworthy of opposable thumbs

We’re gonna break hearts and records tonight

We’re gonna break hearts and records tonight

We’re gonna break hearts and records tonight

We’re gonna break hearts and records tonight

Why is this permitted? (out of the tar pit!)

Why is this licensed? (out of the tar pit!)

Ignorant and unsighted (out of the tar pit!)

Passé and violent (out of the tar pit!)

It seems like we’re finished and we’ve only just started

An ill-advised full return for the departed

And we’re never gonna get those stains out of the carpet

The ones made when that fucker came out of the tar pit!

My favourite music of 2015

I engaged with music in 2015 in a way that I hadn’t in years. As well as attending a wonderful number of gigs, I feel as though I managed to keep an ear to the ground in terms of new releases. This meant that my interests were able to develop independently of the stuff I was exposed via radio for the first time in a long time.

2015 also saw me write about music in a more full-on manner than I had previously. In addition to a couple of album reviews I posted on this blog, I also began to contribute articles to a music blog, And Antarctica.

Consequently, I feel as though I am in a strong position to write about my favourite music of 2015 and will thus go into more detail than I am accustomed in my personal round-ups of the year. What follows will be my tracks of the year, albums of the year, gigs of the year and briefly what albums I listened to most in general.

TOP 20 TRACKS OF THE YEAR

20. Belle & Sebastian - Nobody’s Empire

19. White - Future Pleasures

18. Blur - Ong Ong

17. Wolf Alice - Giant Peach

16. Modest Mouse - Lampshades on Fire

15. Jason DeRulo - Want You To Want Me

14. Dick Valentine - Saddam Hussein (link is for another song on his album)

13. Electric Six - Big Red Arthur (link is for another song on their album)

12. Susanne Sundfør - Fade Away

11. John Grant - Disappointing

- - - - -

10. Slug - Eggs and Eyes

A joyfully disjointed song that manages to be tuneful and disturbing in equal parts.

9. Børns - Electric Love

I have no idea who this artist is, but hearing this pop song come on the radio was always a softly affirmational occasion.

8. Courtney Barnett - Pedestrian at Best

Strong wordplay backed with grungy chords made for a fun and catchy package.

7. Young Fathers - Shame

A song that showcases the band at their urgent best, a scuzzy little dancer that ticks multiple boxes

6. Will Butler - What I Want

On his debut, Butler’s music often came across as what the Arcade Fire would produce if Win Butler loosened up, chilled out and decided to play around a bit. This was the strongest example.

5. Muse - Dead Inside

Every new Muse release sees me build up hope that my former favourite band have some managed to turn their ship around and return to being the band that wrote baroque RATM-inspired masterpieces. Every release invariably results in disappointment. The same happened this past year with their album Drones, but this track was their first in seven years or so that I actually found exciting to listen to. Here, they manage to harness the angst of their past to tense and taut rock that build a narrative and just about manages to keep everything on deck.

4. Public Service Broadcasting: Go!

This track managed to capture the energy and anticipation of a mission control room and release in the form of dancefloor banger. What impressed me the most was PSB’s use of dialogue samples; where in the past these had merely been embellishments or a narrative device, on this track they managed to craft a catchy chorus. So far the first and only singalong moment in their set.

3. Ezra Furman - Lousy Conection

A real change of pace from Furman’s usual songs, and one that gives plenty of space for his lyrics - his greatest strength - to do their thing. Engrossing imagery, delicious couplets, original at every step. All this and spearheaded with a war cry of a chorus, a statement of intent more self-reflective and introverted than his previous album’s ‘Tell ‘em All To Go To Hell’ but just as strident.

2. FFS - Johnny Delusional

Of all the songs I heard in 2015, this is one that I would love to be more popular. Quirky art-pop perfection from Franz Ferdinand and Sparks that should be soundtracking fist-pumping singalongs on dance floors and sweaty karaoke booths alike. Awkwardly jerky but confidently passionate, a perfect encapsulation of this fun and inventive collaboration.

1. Kendrick Lamar - King Kunta

A potently literate power play that not only showcased Lamar’s verbal prowess but managed to mould the groundbreaking sounds of To Pimp A Butterfly into a track that also worked as a smooth party jam without losing any of its artful potency. As it progresses, the music builds up to an almost dizzying high, dropping in and out and jerking the listener about until they cannot help but be in thrall to artistry of King K-Dot.

FAVOURITE ALBUMS:

1. Public Service Broadcasting - The Race For Space
2. Ezra Furman - Perpetual Motion People
3. Susanne Sundfør - Ten Love Songs

4. Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A Butterfly
5. Slug - Ripe

FAVOURITE GIGS:

1. Ezra Furman at the Lexington (support from Du Blonde)

2. Slug at the Hope and Ruin

3. Public Service Broadcasting at the Brighton Dome (support from Smoke Fairies)

4. Jeffrey Lewis at the Hope and Ruin (support from Pog)

5. White at Brighthelm (The Great Escape 2015)

In addition to new music coming out of 2015, I also seemed to listen to two older albums more than any others. These were Boys And Girls In America by The Hold Steady and Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos; two incredible albums that are now among my very favourites and that I would recommend to anyone.

I go into a bit more detail about my favourite albums and gigs in a feature for And Antarctica about 2015 in general. Check it out! I also write a wee bit about what I'm looking forward to in the next few months. Overall, 2015 felt like a good year for music. 2016 has got a lot to live up to.

Photo credit: Mike Chouinard

Supermarket - Panic Buys

Tasked with writing a Xmas song for Supermarket; these are the lyrics that came up on the train.

*   *   *   *

Panic buys

Subtle, erogenous

Panic buys

Viscous, poisonous

Light the candle and hold it ’til the wax melts

Trickles down your arm leaving tracks like whip welts

It’s Christmas time and now it’s time to panic

Time to run around feeling numb and manic

Make a pact, sign up with the Santanic

Make those panic buys

Panic buys

Cutting, insidious

Panic buys

Chilling, oblivious

Grab the plastic bag, blocking off your blood supply

Seek the path through the crowds with your muddied eyes

It’s Christmas time and now it’s time to panic

Time to run around feeling numb and manic

Make a pact, sign up with the Santanic

Make those panic buys

Panic buys

Purchase or failure

Panic buys

Purpose or failure

Offer tribute or your life is meaningless

Giver of a gift or exiled in the wilderness

It’s Christmas time and now it’s time to panic

Time to run around feeling numb and manic

Make a pact, sign up with the Santanic

Make those panic buys

The Birth of the Potassium Brothers

My friend Charlie makes industrial darkwave music under the name Area XG. I've gone to see him perform some of his tracks at an electronic night in Brighton, and the some of the tracks he performed at his most recent gig seemed to me that they would lend themselves to hip-hop and rap quite well. I mentioned this to him and my friend Steve at the gig, and the from this the idea of the Potassium Brothers came about.

A month or two later, my housemate was looking for some people to perform at a Hallowe'en party. Impetuously, I signed up the Potassium Brothers, forcing me to come up with some raps to deliver a few weeks later. To fit the theme of the evening, I tried to steer these raps down a scary route, taking inspiration from The Wicker Man and Nick Cave's Murder Ballads album.

Steve's role in the performance was largely unplanned, and resulted in him improvising some interpretative dance to the horror-themed raps. This seemed to go down well, as it was at this party that he met his girlfriend for the first time. Hooray!

Here are the words to the three raps performed on that fateful evening...

*   *   *

Today is Dead

Today is dead are the words that they say to me
I flip 'em off rising up from the cemetery
Decayed skin gonna stretch my delivery
Selling up so now we distribute for free
Stevie K in his undead livery
Y'all be silent like we in a mortuary
Sit yourselves down in my menagerie
Here it comes, time to face your mortality

What's this shit that you've served up in front of me?
Potassium's gonna serve necromancy
Serving up an exhibition of atrocities
With our Franco-darkwave philosophy
We got your blood pumped like we cut an artery
Heed vampiric calls for phlebotomy
Banana bros top the throne with authority
Potassium king the name that they calling me

We from the mausoleum
We want our potassium
You in the mausoleum
You got your potassium

*   *   *

How Fast They Burned?

They take me out to a field with a structure
A wicker man stands tall, man's corruptor
Numb ears won't hear quoted scripture
Here the pagan hand is the instructor
Social rupture has left this land frail
Past the pale only wild morality prevails
And now they sacrifice another virgin male
They sing and pray that the crops will not fail

Now parade is over, here the people come
They gather round my wicker cage, one by one
I can feel the fear like a loaded gun
They cry out for light, replace the dying sun
And then it comes, the sentence is passed
Both my hopes and the daylight are fading fast
Struggling with the rope but it was tied to last
Their torches lower, they ignite the grass

I can hear the tongues of flames crackling
I can feel the fire on my naked skin
My body's bubbling and blistering
My limbs are charring and blackening
My body's bubbling and blistering
My limbs are charring and blackening
And the smoke is rising from my burning flesh
Choking on the ashes of my dying breath
And the smoke is rising from my burning flesh
Choking on the ashes of my dying breath

And the fire eats up the wicker men
And the farmers harvest their crops again

*   *   *

Terrorist Social Network

When winter takes its hold on you and the nights are closing in
There's something in the darkness, there's something on the wind
There's rustling in the bushes, there's creeping on your skin
Don't want to be left cold outside, thank god you let me in

I'll have such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have planned it better if I'd wanted to
I'll have such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have planned it better if I'd wanted to

Thank god you let me in here, there's a madman on the loose
A ripper out upon the heath, a hangman with a noose
You've saved a stranger from his fate, saved me from abuse
You ushered me into your home, oh how could I refuse?

Aren't I lucky I discovered you?
All alone with no one to answer to
I'll have such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have planned it better if I'd wanted to
I'll have such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have planned it better if I'd wanted to

What is this? Don't worry dear, it's just a little rope
Just think of it as a scarf to warm your little throat
Let me repay you this kindness and let me hang you up
Let me feast upon your meat, drink your blood from a cup
I'll tidy up when finished dear, I'll even clean the cup
Then vanish back into the woods before the sun comes up

I've had such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have done it better if we wanted to
I've had such a lovely time with you
Couldn't have done it better if we wanted to

Beware the hangman
Beware the bleating of the flock
Beware the first frost
Beware the visitor, beware the knock

Eurovision and politics

This past weekend saw one of my favourite annual cultural highlights rear its head once more. Saturday night was the night of the Eurovision Song Contest. Thankfully, for the first time in three years, it was not taking place on the same weekend of the Great Escape music festival, and so I was free to watch it live!

As I enjoyed the spectacle of show (as always), however, this year I found my heart conflicted. It wasn't because the UK's entry was so mediocre, I was very well prepared for that. No, my personal conflict came with one of the songs that I enjoyed the most.

Nadav Guedj's 'Golden Boy' was the first song of the night that really got me going. The lyrics were hilarious. And before I leave, let me show you Tel Aviv... Ah. There. There was the problem. Nadav Guedj was representing Israel.

Israel is a terror state, inflicting a new brand of apartheid against the Palestinian people. Even though 'Golden Boy' was a superb song, I couldn't really get behind it if it was being sung under the flag of Israel, could I?

Elsewhere, others were having similar political problems. The Russian entrant, Polina Gagarina, whose song 'A Million Voices' was a superb powerpop song, was receiving choruses of boos from the fans in attendance (and from me in my sitting room) whenever she was awarded points from the judges. These were most likely due to Russia's occupation of part of Ukraine and its treatment of the LGBT community, rather than the quality of Gagarina's singing.

As the boos rang out, the hosts of the show pleaded with the crowd, advising them to put political differences behind them and judge the contestants purely on the music. Heeding these words at the time, I shrugged and proceeded to give my vote to 'Golden Boy' (along with Belgium, Lithuania and Romania at the same time).

Thinking back on this, I regret my decision. The argument that performers - be they singers or sportspeople - should not be subject to boos on the basis that they come from a country with morally questionable politics is one that becomes flawed to me when the performer in question becomes a representative of that country.

During Eurovision, the contest is framed very much upon national lines. You are not voting for Polina Gagarina or Nadav Guedj, you are voting for Russia or Israel. Throughout the night, the commentators, hosts and judges repeatedly refer to the countries. The leaderboard shows which countries have which amounts of points. Every headline announcing the winner of this year's result will have contained the word Sweden. I will eat my hat if more than a small minority contained the name of the performer Måns Zelmerlöw.

The performers themselves are opting to represent these countries within competition, to walk out onto the stage behind the flag. I doubt this is something that any of them are forced into (indeed, the original winner of the German competition to represent the country pulled out). All are aware of what they are doing.

The other argument is that the actions of a government such as the Israeli or Russian ones are not representative of the people of that country, or of the country itself. The problem with this line of thinking is that, again, these actions occur under the flag of that country, under the concept/sign/myth of that country. It is this concept/sign/myth that equally is being represented in competitions such as the Eurovision Song Contest.

One final note I think is worth making is that it is the country that goes on to exact the reward (or pay the price) of hosting the competition the following year. I have no idea what the average cost or profit is for hosting, but I would imagine many businesses in the hosting country will derive some benefit from an influx of tourists and fans when the Eurovision circus rolls into town.

I regret my decision to vote for Israel. I should have just stuck with Belgium. Next time I will be more discerning.

Alien Alien (draft)

I picked up a distress call
A distant voice coming through the wall
But I can't find what happened to the research team
Tiptoe through the quarantine
Through the charred wreckage of machines
In this place, no one listens to the screams

I don't know who these people are
Want higher speed limits for their cars
They must come out at night, mostly
Disconnecting all the phones
No fibreoptics for these homes
I hear scuttling, they must be quite close to me

<I am an alien, I am an alien, I am an alien, I am an alien>

I want to find myself a home (alien! alien!)
I want somewhere where I belong (alien! alien!)
This land, it feels so strange
I woke up and everything changed
Now I need to find myself a home (alien! alien!)

I sheltered in a greasy spoon
Read the latest news from the moon
Now I can't find where I parked the mothership
Egg chambers and food banks
Corrosive blood melts oxygen tanks
When they embrace your face it feels like smothering

<I am an alien, I am an alien, I am an alien, I am an alien>

I want to find myself a home (alien! alien!)
I want somewhere where I belong (alien! alien!)
This land, it feels so strange
I woke up and everything changed
Now I need to find myself a home (alien! alien!)

*    *    *    *    *    *

They'll take us back to the good old days
This fire smells like the good old days
Out from your stomach bursts a brand new day
But you'll have to pay to be stitched back up

Album review: The Smiths - Meat Is Murder

The Smiths - Meat Is Murder (1985)

When acquired: late December, 2012

There were a great many bands that I became acquainted with through regular patronage of the Cavern Club in Exeter when I was at uni. Saturday nights at the Cavern were a regular fixture in the social calendar due to the wonderful Indie Disco and Atomic Pop nights that were on most weeks. The Cavern offered an opportunity for me to become acquainted with a great many bands whom I should have already been familiar with, but for whatever reason had missed.

The Smiths were the best of these groups, and I was hooked after the first times of hearing ‘This Charming Man’ and ‘Bigmouth Strikes Again.' Before uni, most of my musical discoveries were made through music television: MTV2, Q, Kerrang et al. The only Smiths song that regularly popped up on these was ‘How Soon Is Now?’ Although this is a classic, it is by no means my favourite and it has taken me a long time to truly value it for what it is.

I fell out of favor with Best Of… albums at some point, and made a conscious decision to look into bands’ discographies fully. With The Smiths I first went for The Queen Is Dead, due to its renown and it containing some of my favourite Smiths tracks. Then, a year or two later, when perusing HMV for last-minute Xmas presents, I stumbled into one of their classic 5 for £20 deals. I was feeling very frivolous that day and made an investment, despite it being very close to Xmas indeed.

Meat Is Murder was the safest of the options that I went for but probably the one I played the least.  On the first couple of listens it just didn’t have the immediacy of The Queen Is Dead, and it felt as though it was lacking one of The Smiths’ incisive and direct poppy rushes. The lead single taken from this record, ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore,’ was one of my least favourite tracks on the Best of… I had acquired many years ago.

The only song that grabbed me at the time was the title track, so hauntingly different from the rest of the songs on there. But, positioned at the end of the album, it was so far away from the beginning of the listening experience that I quickly grew tired of the album until revisiting it now, inadvertently marking the 30th anniversary of the band’s only number 1 record in the UK.

This has been the first time I’ve really sat down and gotten to grips with the album and it has definitely rewarded my perseverance. Meat Is Murder needs to be mulled over and pondered to be fully appreciated, being a much more engrossing and cohesive work than any of their other albums I’ve listened to.

The title and cover art should have served as a clue or warning of this cohesiveness, of how strong themes of violence and weakness run throughout. Even when the subject matter for the songs changes, these tropes continue on, grounding the album and giving it a tremendous focus.

Stylistically, this album sees The Smiths growing in confidence from the self-titled debut released the previous year. At this point they have expanded their sound by degrees, mixing up tempos and adding elements of rockabilly, skiffle, disco funk to the jangling poppy post-punk that dominated their first album.

While ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’ would not have been out of place on The Smiths, the penultimate song, ‘Barbarism Begins At Home,’ exemplifies this new found confidence; a hefty slab of new wave disco funk that would fit comfortably on a Talking Heads record. The extended outro breakdown allows Johnny Marr, Andy Rourke, and Mike Joyce to have a joyous time, a world away from the barbarism described in the lyrics.

Morrissey too is notably more comfortable with his voice, and as such his vocal delivery is on point throughout. Lyrically, for most of the album he finds himself siding with the innocent, weak and downtrodden, while railing against their vulgar oppressors.

At times it feels as though he is painting himself as Gulliver, returned home from his travels. Finding himself disgusted with his contemporaries, he longs to live with the wise horse-people, the houyhnhnms. In ‘Barbarism…’ the paradox that “a crack on the head is what you get for not asking, and a crack on the head is what you get for asking” is reminiscent of the satire that runs throughout Swift’s work.

Both the young and the animal are exalted throughout the album, possessors of a vitality, knowledge and understanding that is lacking amongst adult society. In ‘Nowhere Fast’, when Morrissey proclaims that “I’d like to drop my trousers to the Queen, every sensible child will know what this means,” he is suggesting not only that the Establishment should be the targets of our vitriol but that the kids know something about it that the adults don’t.

Adults and the Establishment are portrayed as the vulgar militaristic aggressors throughout, beginning with album opener ‘The Headmaster Ritual’, a tale of oppressive school master that grabs, devours, kicks our protagonist in the showers and “does the military two-step down the back of my neck.” At once, the album begins with urgent arpeggios, a wild contrast from the previous album opener, ‘Reel Around The Fountain,’ which plodded along nicely but did not opt to draw battle lines musically in the same way as ‘The Headmaster Ritual’ does.

Songs such as ‘Well I Wonder’ and ‘That Joke…’ exhibit some of the pondering introspection that are rife throughout The Smiths’ catalogue, but on this album they are balanced with fast-paced numbers such as ‘What She Said’ - a wild rocket that does not let up - or complete changes in direction such as the closing title track.

After really engaging with the album, I've found that ‘Meat Is Murder’ could only work as the final track. It is a complete sea-change for the band, and musically they deliver a real sense of gravity which was lacking from their earlier ballad to the Moors murders victims, ‘Suffer Little Children.’ The song is heralded by the mournful lowing of cattle and an electric buzzing that suggests what is to come, both for the listener and the unfortunate cows. Lyrically, the song swings from hard-hitting and visceral ("it's sizzling blood and the unholy stench of murder") to the ridiculous ("kitchen aromas aren't very homely"), but the relentless and ominous marching of the backing prevents this from becoming ludicrous.

Meat Is Murder certainly marks a step up from the band's debut, and although it does not hit the heights that subsequent show-stealer The Queen Is Dead does, it is a wonderfully cohesive yet varied album that warrants and rewards careful listening. Even if you don't normally hear when animals cry, it is worth having a listen here.


Check out: 'Barbarism Begins At Home,' 'What She Said,' 'Meat Is Murder'

...as long as the supermarket did not slip.

"Some of the houses in town were showing signs of neglect. The park benches needed repair, the broken streets needed resurfacing. Signs of the times. But the supermarket did not change, except for the better. It was well-stocked, musical and bright. This was the key, it seemed to us. Everything was fine, would continue to be fine, would eventually get even better as long as the supermarket did not slip."

Don DeLillo, White Noise (1984)

Album review: Dragonette - Galore

Dragonette - Galore (2007)

When acquired: at Xmas one year, 2007 or 2008

As the noughties drew to a head I can remember that there was a great deal of electronic pop music that I really loved. The two tracks that come to mind most prominently are Girls Aloud’s ‘Call The Shots’ and Sugababes’ ‘About You Now.’ Both conveyed a sense of urgency that seemed to mesh well with the second half of undergraduate university life; celebratory as it was one of the most carefree times of my life, where I was finding my feet as an adult, yet also melancholy, tinged with the knowledge that these days were numbered and the shadows of the adult world were building up on the horizon.

I’m a massive fan of pop music but have rarely, if ever, indulged in acquiring an album that belongs outrightly to that genre. A notable exception to this rule was Dragonette’s Galore. I was introduced to the band by my housemate in Exeter, Matt Voss, who was a big fan of one of their songs in particular, ‘True Believer.’ After being exposed to this torch song on multiple occasions I did a quick bit of online research (those days consisting of a visit to MySpace) and the other tracks available to listen to convinced me that this would make my Xmas list that year.

At the time, I was obsessed with ‘True Believer.’ It fitted comfortably into my poppy inclinations alongside Girls Aloud, Sugababes, Britney Spears and all that, but at the same time had a type of prestige that I was drawn to at the time in that it was a song by not just proper musicians but ones that had somehow evaded the mainstream. This song, which seemed quite capable of conquering commercial radio, had an electricity to it that comes with being largely unheard of.

As things stand, it looks as though ‘True Believer’ will be the very last song I ever play as a DJ. As a committee member of Exeter University’s indie society, I was afforded the opportunity to DJ at events; this was great and it give me a platform to passively rail against the increasingly hip direction the society was going (or was it that I was losing faith in the mainstream indie scene in 2007/2008?). As other members would play stuff that they liked over what the majority of people knew, I thought, screw it, I’m going to play Dragonette. I don’t think anyone noticed.

After all this, Xmas came round and one of my presents was Galore, the debut album from the Canadian popsters. It was a revelation. Most of the pop albums I had heard previously tended to follow a strict formula; open the album with 4 or so killer chart hits, then have the record fade away into a stodgy mass of dull filler (no doubt I will be reviewing one or two of these later). Not so with Galore.

Sure, it opens up with ‘I Get Around’, a striding electro-pop pounder that struts while detailing a one-night stand. The “here I go” refrain sounds simultaneously triumphant and mournfully inevitable while being driven along by strident beats. This then gives way to a further two songs that wouldn’t feel out of place in the Top 40 before we arrive at ‘True Believer,’ but the quality continues on from here.

There’s a level of ambivalence at work in Galore that elsewhere could represent weak writing, but here feels representative of depth. Frontlady Martina Sorbara seemingly teeters on the edge of empowerment. In ‘Jesus Doesn’t Love Me’, she sings of a “little bit of dirty down in my soul” and calls to be cleansed of her sins, but the repeated calling of drugs, sex, and rock ’n’ roll and the song’s chorus is defiantly celebratory in the face of judgement.

Empowering lyrics are not rare, but what makes these songs stand out against other pop efforts and gives them a feeling of depth is the way in which many of the songs are constructed, and how their dynamics shift. Case in point is track two, ‘Competition,’ where the pace develops slowly from that of playground taunting to desperate urgency. The pace shift lends a vulnerability to Sorbara’s words and keeps the listener engaged.

There is also a range of stylings and pacing across the album to keep you hooked for the running time. As well as the aforementioned tracks, Galore manages to cram in slower ballads, twee swung whimsy and jerky musings alongside more powerful pop, and still feels like cohesive work throughout.

Sorbara revels in her self-appointed role as a tortured, fallen soul, glorying in delivering tales of promiscuity, yearning and empowerment. Galore offers a powerful array of passionate couplings; dark and light, innocent and guilty, requited and denied. It delivers them in dripping abundance.

Check out: ‘True Believer,’ ‘Take It Like A Man,’ ‘I Get Around.’

Happy 2015! or, 2014 in review

Here marks blog entry no. 100. I feel as though there should be balloons. A small cake, at least. My breakfast blog has now overtaken this one as my blog with the most hits though (despite coming into existence a good couple of years after this one), so celebrations will remain muted while I plot how to address this. In any case, it is time to briefly review 2014 and present a couple of lists of my favourite things.

In terms of New Year's Resolutions, I think I failed quite comprehensively. The main two I listed were:

- use this blog to document the progress of my novel, The Final Chapter of Captain Iguanodon
- travel with Claire to as many different Kingstons as possible.

I failed pretty badly with both of these on the surface of things, but the spirit in which these resolutions were made was honoured with other actions during the course of the year.

While I failed to use the blog to document the progress of my novel, I did begin writing for it (the novel) much more frequently. This was helped by my new work commute (more on that later on), giving me a good hour or so every morning in which to carry on with it. I'm hoping to finish a basic first draft within the next month or two.

While we didn't visit any Kingstons, me and Claire did manage to take a trip to Norway. That was very exciting. And wet - Norway is not blessed with the best autumnal weather. Oslo is a beautiful city though, and definitely worth a visit.

New musical discoveries

In previous years I have tried to check out a new band per month. This didn't happen so much this year. Sure, I did find out about some new bands, but possibly not as many as I have done in the past. While I did keep my eyes and ears open for new music, I didn't hunt for it. This is something I will try and address in 2015.

Best tracks:

In leaving my previous job, I also left behind Radio 2. We had a good run; I will always look back fondly on days spent with Ken Bruce, Steve Wright and Jeremy Vine with a smile on my face and happiness in my heart. 2014 could be the final time that my favourite tracks are heavily influenced by MOR radio.

1. Manic Street Preachers - Dreaming A City (Hughesovka)
2. Young Fathers - Low
3. Taylor Swift - Shake It Off
4. François & The Atlas Mountains - La Verité
5. Future Islands - Seasons (Waiting On You)
6. Jack White - Lazaretto
7. Elyar Fox - A Billion Girls
8. Pixies - Blue Eyed Hexe
9. Common Linnets - Calm After The Storm
10. Octopuses - Cool Story Bro

Here be a nice mixture of MOR radio, old favourites and bands associated with The Great Escape. As said earlier though, I didn't actively hunt out new music enough. That's going to change in 2015, just you wait and see.

I should probably just give further mention to Manic Street Preachers before moving on. In 2014, they brought out their 12th album, Futurology, and it proved to be one of their best yet. Every now and then I remember what they've achieved and continue to put out and am in a state of awe. They must be the only band to have played in both Cuba and on Strictly Come Dancing. 'Dreaming A City (Hughesovka)' is unlike anything I've heard from them thus far, and demonstrates that they continue to deserve people's attention, even after more than 20 years.

Best films:

1. The Lego Movie
2. Boyhood
3. Her
4. Pride
5. Mistaken For Strangers

Having been gifted with a Picturehouse Membership last year, I went to see a large number of wonderful films. These five were my favourites, and I probably shed tears for some reason or other at at least one point during each of them. Well, maybe not during one of them. I think I held it together for the duration of Boyhood, though that film was so engrossing that I could quite happily have watched it for another couple hours on top of its 3+ hours running time.

I'd give each of these films between 4 and 5 out of 5, and would recommend them to anyone.

Honourable mentions: 20,000 Days On Earth, Calvary, The Imitation Game, Grand Budapest Hotel

Best gigs:

1. Ezra Furman @ End of the Road
2. Jeffrey Lewis @ Green Door Store
3. Young Fathers @ Green Door Store
4. Manic Street Preachers @ Brighton Centre
5. The Hives @ Brixton Academy

Ezra Furman and the Boyfriends are a great live act in most situations. There was one extra special moment when we saw them play for the second time at the End of the Road Festival, though. Their set was proceeding as normal when Ezra disappeared from the stage. Then they broke into one of the most potent songs in their arsenal; Take Off Your Sunglasses. As harmonica blared out, where was Ezra? We still couldn't see him, and then there was a big cheer from the back of the field.

Turning around, we saw him.

Ezra had scaled an ornamental stage that was situated halfway into the crowd. Somehow he had snuck out and there he was, delivering the song of the set, and this simple surprising gesture was enough to plunge everyone into raptures. Ace stuff.

Special mention also needs to go to Jeffrey Lewis, who was both entertaining and informative throughout his set. He made great use of a projector to present us some comics to accompany songs about the history of Vietnam and a monstrous Creeping Brain (creeping brain). He is certainly someone to catch live where possible.

Best books read:

1. AS Byatt - Possession: A Romance
2. Richard Adams - Shardik
3. Margaret Atwood - MaddAddam
4. Ray Bradbury - Fahrenheit 451
5. Neil Gaiman - American Gods

With a new hour-long commute in both the morning and evening, for the majority of 2014 I found myself with a lot more time for reading than I had previously, and for the most part I made good use of this time.

Possession: A Romance has to be one of the deepest books I have ever read. The amount of detail and world-building that Byatt put into this novel is incredible, so much so that I could not discern between her fictional world of poetry and academia and my own. It may be a little dense and take some time to get into, but the rewards are well worth it.

I also read a really terrible book. Ben Galley's The Written was a gift that I received for my birthday. Dad had seen it in a bookshop and thought the cover looked good. I have to agree, it's packaged very well, and even the ideas for the plot and the fantasy world were fun and interesting. Unfortunately, the level of writing was just not up to scratch. Ropy dialogue, questionable imagery, an abundance of cliché, it was all there. The book, it turns out, was self-published, but has still managed to do well enough to make its way into bookshops nationwide. I even found a copy lurking in the Piccadilly branch of Waterstones. Despite being occasionally painful to read, the whole experience has been quite the confidence booster.

Best wrestling matches:

So 2014 was the year I got into wrestling. It all started off as an impromptu and flippant decision to download and watch the Royal Rumble event in January and slowly snowballed into a full-flung addiction whereby me and my housemate Matt watched each monthly pay per view. I plan to write an eulogic piece in praise of the post-modern marvel that is professional wrestling, but until I get round to doing so, these were my favourite bouts that I watched (just in case any wandering reader really fancied seeing what I was getting so het up about).

1. Daniel Bryan vs. Bray Wyatt @ Royal Rumble
2. The Wyatt Family vs. The Shield @ Elimination Chamber
3. The Usos vs. The Wyatt Family @ Battleground
4. Dolph Ziggler vs. Cesaro @ Hell In A Cell
5. Team Cena vs. Team Authority @ Survivor Series

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes that Darren Aronofsky intended The Wrestler and Black Swan to be companion pieces.

"I like to look at wrestling as the most artsy of all the martial arts. It's a very creative process, what we're doing is artistic creative combat." - Daniel Bryan, via Alternative Nation.

Achievements:

So, as mentioned earlier, I bailed on my resolutions for 2014. But wait! I reckon my two main achievements for the year cancel out any notions of failure. I have started a new job as a writer for Medical News Today, writing a mixture of news items and information pieces. It has been great fun thus far, both in terms of being able to be creative and learning new things. And while me and Claire didn't visit any Kingstons, we did visit Norway. Possibly more exciting and eye-opening than a trip to Kingston-upon-Hull.

A third and final achievement that I am quite proud of concerns my breakfast blog. During the World Cup last year, I endeavored to prepare, eat, and review a breakfast for each of the countries participating in the football competition. It was hard work and time consuming, but the results were well worth it.

New Year's Resolutions

To keep things simple, I'm going to aim to finally finish the first draft of my Captain Iguanodon novel before my 28th birthday. Hopefully a deadline should give the impetus to get over the finish line. As things stand, I'm heading towards the endgame so this shouldn't be too tricky a resolution to keep.

Other than that, eat more fruit, drink more water and get more sleep. On that note, I should probably get to bed.

Happy 2015! Goodnight 2014!

"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." - Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

One project for 2015:

My CD collection takes up a fair bit of space in my bedroom and has occasionally made me curse when moving house. As with any collection, what is contained on those shelves (and piles scattered about the bedroom on desk and drawers) is more than just a reflection of personal taste. Each one will have associations with personal history, specific moments in time, places lived and people known.

I’ve decided to embark on a bit of an adventure and appraise my CD collection, diving deeply into those chronicles that sit there stacked up in a flat, circular form. There’s no point having such a collection without making use of it, so I shall also be giving each album a review. Maybe I’ll rediscover some lost loves. Maybe I’ll have some serious questions to ask the James of the past. In any case it will be interesting - for me, at least - to see what I can discover listening to all those songs again. No doubt I will also find some gaps in my collection that need filling too.

Since moving house, my CDs have sat in an unordered mess, bereft of structure or logic. I shall be starting with the first CD on the top shelf of my designated CD shelves and slowly working my way through from there. My aim is to write up at least one review a week.

'Lousy Shepherd' - for RDDC (working title)

I haven’t seen a sheep for days

My mind is limping as I cross the barricades

And I’m thinking and I’m thinking if this way is best for me

And I’m wondering if these visions are the images you see

I’ve got stock photos on the brain

Anonymous folk without context or a name

And I’m wondering and I’m wondering if they actually exist

How they got into those pictures and what they’d feel like to kiss

Everyday I see myself falling

Everyday I catch myself stalling

And it’s always it’s always the same

Now my eyes don’t want to work

Focusing on idiosyncratic quirks

And I’m thinking and I’m thinking that this will all disappear

And it seems to me the Internet is whispering in my ear

The lines are blurring fast

Instead of tapestry it’s a zebra skin graft

And I’m wishing and I’m wishing that I wasn’t in this head

And instead of typography I was cocooned in bed

Everyday I see myself falling

Everyday I catch myself stalling

And it’s always it’s always the same

l feel like a different beast

Like part of this morning's got stuck between my teeth

And I’m wondering, and i’m wondering if today’s the day I’ll crack

The day that I get pushed too far and go on the attack

Every glance is like a pinch

Every word makes my skin crawl another inch

And I’m climbing and I’m climbing up the surface of the Shard

Stock photo model underarm, fleeing from the Guard

Everyday I see myself falling

Everyday I catch myself stalling

And it’s always it’s always the same

Assorted Supermarket Lyric Drafts

Working title: Church

I saw the ghosts upon the beach
I saw their skin as pale as bleach

I took the ghosts right up the hill
I took them to the church that sat above the mill

The congregation did not care
The congregation was not there!

How many dead bodies was this church built on? (turn on the lights!)

I can see their hands! I can see their hands! I can see them singing!
I can hear them now! I can hear them now! I can see them clapping!
Out of the organ, I can feel it! There's a buzz, buzz, buzzing
Let me give it, let me take it, on my knees at the garbage altar

When you can smell and breathe it
Open up and believe it
We're inside a cloud of flies
In the middle of a cloud of flies

*   *   *   *   *

Working title: Blood And Stoats

Blood...and stoats...
Blood...and stoats...

Blood and stoats
Their teeth, your throat
Your hands and wrists
Are bound with rope
These lines are knives
These words that choke
And then you find
The blood, a stoat

Blood and stoats
A sail, a boat
Your hopes and dreams
They fail to float
A grim parade
Invades and gropes
It drains your blood
Dries out the stoat

Blood and stoats
A carved-up goat
The future's gown
A crimson coat
The stars, they fall
A widow's shawl
It barely copes
To cover a stoat

You put the cunt in insignificant
Oh the truth is puerile
You put the dick in predictable
Oho the truth is puerile

*   *   *   *   *

Working title: Cathedral

You want to mess with the flowers?
They'll mess you up when you're fast asleep
They will spread their vines inside your veins
Roots as far as the mirror's deep
Gathered in hand, gathered in hand
Gathered up in bunches, tied in knots
They'll lay us down in the compost
Leave us out back, ready to rot

Oh yeah
They called it the march of the flowers

Have you seen the planet's anfger?
Have you seen its teeth and claws?
Have you seen its many gestures
When you're behind closed doors?
Like the light in the refridgerator
Out like a candle in the winter wind
When the spores settle on you
That's when the world war will begin

Here comes the march of the flowers

Whitehawk Nihilism (draft 1 maybe)

We've got nothing here

Just like you've got nothing there

Only our nothing here

Is much cheaper

And where that road goes

Or where it came from

No one cares

There's patches of ground

Shops and houses

Just the same as what you think you've got

Over there

Only difference is

They're much cheaper here

And more free

Cracked eggs in the aisles

Don't matter

They're nothing

To worry about

You think your nothing

Is better than our nothing?

Nah

Who are ya?

Tired From The Week

I.

So La Choza it is open and a table is reserved

It’s Matthew’s 30th birthday, it’s the least that he deserved

I’d love to come but I’m afraid I’m feeling past my peak

I’ll have to give this one a miss, I’m tired from the week.

II.

Lou and Sue are getting married, they’re gonna tie the knot

The ceremony won’t be one to ever be forgot

It’s going to be quite hectic and right now I’m feeling meek

That’s just another symptom of being tired from the week.

III.

An election is upon us and it’s time to cast our vote 

We cannot let those people take our country by the throat

But if the loons get in then I’ll just turn the other cheek

I’m a busy guy what with being tired from the week.

IV.

I hear Red Diamond Dragon Club are playing another gig

Main support for Talking Heads, it’s gonna be quite big

But I want to be the early bird with worm within its beak

I must confess, I’ve got to rest, I’m tired from the week.

V.

Aurora Borealis is lighting up the Sussex sky!

Never before seen down here by any naked eye!

Oh no good Sir! I won’t be staying up to take a peek

I’ve got to get an early night, I’m tired from the week.

VI.

Jesus has been sighted, reports say that he’s in town

Sounds as though the Second Coming’s finally come around

Tomorrow I will roll away my own stone, so to speak

Must I tell you thrice that I am tired from the week?

VII.

Now aliens have landed and they’re calling us all out

And everyone is going to see what the fuss is all about

I’d prefer it if they tried to maintain their mystique

I have no real interest, I’m tired from the week.

VIII.

I’m going to throw a party and invite all my friends

It’s been a while, I really want to see them all again

Waiting for them to respond, the outlook’s looking bleak

Looks like they might all be feeling tired from the week.

IX.

Friends I’ve known since growing up, friends that I’ve just met

Friends from school, friends from work, friends I won’t forget

Friends of every creed and colour, belief and physique

I find it hard to believe they’re all tired from the week

X.

The birthday boy, the laughing loves, the future of the land

Light fantastic, David Byrne, a good-times party band 

Heaven-scented messengers and the truth that some still seek

What have they all been doing to make them tired from the week?