Another Late Night

So, lately I've been working on a feature centred around the Late Night Tales series. Naturally, when you do these sorts of things, the idea of making your own as a sort of pet project for fun will inevitably spring into your head. Which is what I've done.

The thing is, it'd be easy for me to just blandly link to a Spotify playlist, but that'd just be like giving a blank card to someone - faceless and meaningless. I recently reviewed the Saint Etienne film 'What have You Done Today, Mervyn Day?', and found myself unsurprisingly comparing it to their earlier work, 'Finisterre'. As both are a celebration of London above all else - albeint in different ways -  neither have an especially vivid storyline. 'Finisterre' is about a mythic 24 hour period in the belly of the capital, while '....Mervyn Day?' uses a mythical paperboy to explain the way it criss-crosses the now-redeveloped Lower Lea Valley. That said, the latter DOES add a sense of cohesion and focus that draws and immerses the viewer into its own world.

With that in mind, I decided to base my eventual playlist on a story, or perhaps more accurately give it a definite sense of time and place. In the Late Night Tales feature, Bill Brewster spoke about how his favourite editions all had a certain sound throughout, as though a sound had been imagined and the songs picked to fit. A sense of conceptualisation, if you will. Whilst the playlist doesn't have a unified sound running through it per se (not to me anyway), I'd like to think that giving it a setting and picking the music to fit has in some way given it a greater sense of focus. As follows:

The playlist draws on personal experiences, of travelling over for a night out with close friends and ending up sat up well into the small hours for no good reason drinking, listening and reflecting. That perfect kind of party-that-isn't that sits nicely between the dinner party formality and Skins style tearing-down-the-wallpaper mayhem. It starts off relatively uptempo, representing the high-spirited first couple of hours before gradually becoming more introverted, hazy and quieter as the hours slip away and late night gives way to the early morning. The last few songs represent the bleary-eyed awakening from whatever little sleep you've managed to get - if any - before watching the sun come up, unsteadily making your way through the city centre and finally the bittersweet moment when you board the train home equally content at the wonderful few hours you've just had and saddened that it's all over and you've had to say your goodbyes.

Whilst it's based on previous experiences the songs picked don't necessarily represent what we listened to. They just happened to fit into the scheme or idea that I had in my head.

The playlist can be found here. I genuinely hope you enjoy it Late Night Tales

For those of you who eschew such services, the tracklist is:

Fool's Gold - The Dive
Napoleon IIIrd - The Unknown Unknown
Meursault - Crank Resolutions
Shocking Pinks - This Aching Deal
Over The Wall - Settle Down
Orange Juice - Simply Thrilled Honey
Saint Etienne - Nothing Can Stop Us
Here We Go Magic - How Do I Know?
Dobie Gray - Out On The Floor
The Ronettes - Do I Love You
The National - Apartment Story
The Field Mice - Emma's House
Everything But The Girl - Are You Trying To Be Funny?
Pelle Carlberg - Pamplona
Jens Lekman - A Higher Power
Allo Darlin' - Let's Go Swimming
The Microphones - The Moon
The Spills - Lockets
Titus Andronicus - No Future Part 1
Arab Strap - (Afternoon) Soaps
Belle & Sebastian - Slow Graffiti
Felt - Mexican Bandits
Standard Fare - Darth Vader
The Modern Lovers - Girlfriend
Ballboy - Empty Throat
Scott Walker - Wait Until Dark
Mint Royale - Dancehall Places
Hefner - Don't Flake Out On Me
The Radio Dept - Your Father
Richard Hawley - Can You Hear The Rain Love
James Yorkston - Woozy With Cider
Aidan Moffatt + The Best Ofs - Living With You Now
Air - Ce Matin La
Taken By Trees - Dreams
Darren Hayman - London Fields
Stephin Merritt - One April Day
Jeff Lewis - Roll Bus Roll

Recommended by Ross #2: The Bloodening

That band from Leeds who sing about punching stuff, some miserable guys with beards and a drinking problem, a shitload of noise by two people who wear sunglasses all the time, some dudes who have issues with law enforcement and some bastards of the medium variety. 

Pulled Apart By Horses – Tough Love

The Leeds party train that is Pulled Apart By Horses have always been a favourite of mine; especially when I saw vocalist Tom Hudson, shirtless, mid-song, vomiting quite violently near his guitar pedals during their performance at Sonisphere last year. ‘Tough Love’ wasn’t as immediate as their debut; probably because I hadn’t heard rough-bastard versions of the songs years beforehand. It took a while for me to appreciate it, but perseverance pays off in this case.
There’s a proper gnarly edge to all these songs. It’s rough and gristly, built around this taunting bass grind and Hudson’s spitting delivery. ‘Wolf Hand’ mixes this dark, menacing guitar tone with spiky punk rock vitriol, while ‘Shake Off The Curse’ is that maximum dirt-bass and ballsy swagger of Bill Paxton in ANY movie that Bill Paxton plays a complete jerk. They’ve also been listening to southern rock, ala Every Time I Die – ‘Wildfire, Smoke and Doom’ has that arrogant strut about it, as well as this snappy, breathless yowl. ‘V.E.N.O.M’ sounds like a Yorkshire-version of The Blood Brothers – testicle-retracting screams, sawing guitars and that disjointed post-hardcore roar. It’s also a great way to start the album – it launches into this quite vicious tirade and keeps up the poison-edged spite throughout. It’s all massively tongue in cheek, because after all, it wouldn’t be Pulled Apart By Horses without the stupid puns, caustic delivery and being dumb.

The Menzingers – On The Impossible Past

Rock Sound magazine have got a lot to answer for. In a good way, mind. Although, my bank account would argue but it can’t, because it doesn’t have a voice, nor the ability for rational thought. Never heard a note of The Menzingers beforehand, but after hearing the wonderfully morose ‘Gates’ on Rock Sound 159; they suddenly burst on to my radar. It has that bitter edge about it, mixed with a slight tongue-in-cheek humour and sarcastic bile.
‘I Can’t Seem To Tell’ features the line “remember the days when I had a conscience? Yeah me neither” – the delivery is so disregarding, so cancelling out it feels like you’ve just been cut down. There are some great lyrics in this though – well, if you’re a fan of pessimistic jabs at your soul. “I’m pretty sure this corner of the world is the loneliest corner in the whole world” sings Tom or Greg (I have no idea) on ‘Sun Hotel’ – a track that sounds like it was cut from the last Crazy Arm album for being too fun/depressing at the same time.
‘Casey’ is a tuneful, post-hardcore song to drink heavily to, but you know, roar from the rooftops, especially for the shredded vocal delivery on the word “CAAAYYSSEEEE” – got to love that. ‘Burn After Writing’ is solid, gravely pop-punk, packed with bounce and rare optimism.
Even if you’re not a fan of punk, or cynical post-hardcore, ‘On The Impossible Past’ is worth your time, even if it’s just for ‘Gates’ or ‘Sun Hotel’ – top album, top band.

Sleigh Bells – Reign of Terror

‘Reign of Terror’ by Sleigh Bells isn’t something I’d usually listen to, but good old itunes and their free downloads provided me with ‘Comeback Kid’ a track I can pretty much say, I bloody love. It’s perhaps the only track on here you could dance to as well; the beats fall right, like a pop-version of Alec Empire’s digital hardcore, whilst Alexis Krauss’s alluring voice purrs over the twinkling bells, and shrieking feedback.
Based on the strength of this one song, I gave ‘Reign of Terror’ a punt and good job too. ‘True Shred Guitar’ is a great first track – loud, stupid and intimidating like all good openers should be. Vocalist Alexis Krauss winding up the fake crowd, before it launches into heavy electronic drum blasts, Derek Miller’s strangulated guitar, which all swirl around her echoing, rap-vocal taunt cries of M-16s and six strings.

‘Crush’ has that sweet-sounding edge; Krauss constantly sounds out of breath, but incredibly sultry (when she’s not not doing the shouty, Bring It On-style cheerleader taunt) whilst the handclaps and solid beats rain down over Miller’s guitar wails. ‘Demons’ is again, more posturing, hip-hop-type beats, that shredding wall of noise (seriously, this is a loud album). ‘Road To Hell’ is smothered in Krauss’s echoing, husky drawl while the drum machine slows down to batter out a fairly, dream-like, breathless pop-rock bounce.
On the strength of ‘Reign of Terror’ I bought ‘Treats’, their first album, which is also pretty great, if a little rougher round the edges.


Cop Problem – Cop Problem

Man, listening to Cop Problem gets you pumped, Arnold style. I heard about this band when I was sent their EP for my listening pleasure by the METAL website I’ve regularly contributed towards for a number of years. It’s great, like, really great. Think skate punk, played faster than you can possibly imagine, whilst a female singer bellows over this breakneck racket. For a 3-song EP, there’s a surprising amount of depth on this. Opener, ‘Monuments’ is all double-bass drum beats, an unhinged urgency to batter the shit out of everything. There’s some proper scorn in the delivery as well; the vocals have that sneer about them, without sounding weak or cheesy.
‘Along For The Ride’ has a Guttermouth guitar tone, but if they were a sick-hardcore band and not a bunch of punk rock imbeciles. It’s skate punk fed through a shredder of metallic air-punching and fist-flails. Contemporaries I guess would be Trash Talk; the same blunt, no-mercy assault and the knowling feeling you’re leaving this party with at least a busted nose and a black eye; perhaps your Madball t-shirt encrusted in blood.  ‘Blinded By Power’ is the best track here though; it’s also the longest, clocking in at 4.46, it still manages to thunder past with that embittered hardcore edge.

You Slut! – Medium Bastard

This rocks the bastard house, seriously. Instrumental rock with big balls – none of that quiet shit; hails from Nottingham and Derby way, You Slut! just magnify and explode their ramshackle beast of a sound into your face. Discovered through a Rock Sound CD, ‘Magnifierer’ morphs and twists like an Adebisi Shank track that’s been hacked to pieces. The bass is so jagged and crunchy, whilst the guitars twitch and jerk like a room full of ADHD sufferers. It’s a spasmodic attack of meandering splatters of technicolour mayhem and something that sounds oddly like the Jaws soundtrack.
‘Fifzteen’ is a fairly tappy, affair – more in line with a This Town Needs Guns style noodling and a build of complex, twisting layers. ‘Elton Chong’ is a bonkers kaleidoscope of energy, whilst ‘Shopping Placenta’ is all 90s alt-rock meets metal, see-sawing riffage, interjected with more splashes of progressive splatters of twiddling genius.
‘Shellsock’ is a meandering, summery affair; intertwined guitars that circulate and overlap each other in this cosmic haze, before grinding down to a deep, bass-heavy roar.
There’s something quite energising and optimistic about You Slut! Their instrumental racket shifts in style and tone so much, yet it always feels decidedly affirming and positive. It will leave you grinning at it’s absurdity and wanting to throw shapes to their twisting commotion.

Indie Schmindie

I’ve got a lot of time for groups of people, or organisations, who appropriate a derogatory term used to describe them, and describe themselves by it. A friend of mine is a Quaker, who are (or were) officially known as Young Friends originally. Now, giving your group a name that lame, you’re asking for a bit of a ribbing, and Quakers became known as such because they quaked. As in, shook. Not played lots of FPSs. Whatever you might think of Quakers, props to people who can take being laughed at and say “actually, you’re right, and we’re proud”. Words to that effect, anyway.

“Schmindie” has been a bit of a derogatory term used for the more, ehh, emotionally susceptible side of indie music. Ballads, songs about heartbreak, fey white men with acoustic guitars and the occasional electric. Generally a bit overwrought. Heck, there’s a lot of this kind of music, you know full well what I mean. I don’t mean the sort of stuff that Dom Passantino legendarily branded “Mondeo Pop”, stuff for 20something sales reps living in West London and engaging in ‘banter’ in an effort to fight the ongoing dreariness of their soulless existence.

Okay, that paragraph was just an excuse to shoehorn some Dom Passantino and some generalisations in. Sorry about that. But my point was, it’s high time that those making schmindie (and yes, there will be no more inverted commas for schmindie in this blogpost), those appreciating schmindie and everyone else, start, only if challenged, wearing it as a badge of honour. But the point of this isn’t to argue the case for a genre name, it’s to give a bit of love to an often-overlooked style of music.

Unlike a lot of my peers, when getting into music I eschewed the angry-teenager brand of Slipknot, RATM, Linkin Park and their (admittedly very wide-ranging) ilk in favour of the likes of Coldplay, Radiohead, Starsailor, Elbow and the like. To this day I’ll still maintain Parachutes is one of the greatest albums ever made, though at least common sense makes me realise the same isn’t true of Love Is Here. But I’m sure it’s that which gives me this affection for sensitive-soul, heart-on-sleeve, guitars-turned-up-to-5 kinda thing.

This was all sparked by putting Bell X1’s Music in Mouth on yesterday. Bell X1 always confused me, they’re a band who should’ve made it bigger in Britain than they did, yet their former lead singer, Damien Rice, made it fairly big with an album of near-unparalleled dreariness. Bell X1’s first two albums are schmindie par excellence, and have plenty a nod-along and plenty to stand on the side of a Pennine on a breezy summer’s day, emoting to. I say that specifically because track 10, In Every Sunflower, certainly soundtracked 2005 me’s just-been-broken-up-with-by-a-girl-going-to-stand-and-stare-into-the-middle-distance-and-wonder-what’s-it-all-about-now status. The line with the biggest impact? “I wouldn’t swap the pain, for never knowing you.” See what I mean? 19 year-old sensitive indie kid fodder.



Bell X1’s Tim Noonan pulls off a similar trick lyrically to Guy Garvey, in that there’s this undercurrent of wryness across Music in Mouth and its follow-up, Flock. I particularly like the line “I’m not over you, can I get back under”, the kind of tongue-in-cheek thing I was, again, thinking a lot in 2005. Elbow are unsurprisingly dead-good for this kind of slightly self-depracating schtick, in something like the wonderfully understated Not A Job, as a simple bass hook and acoustic line accompanies Guy Garvey singing “Words to make her stay, you said: ‘Leave me and the plants die’, a panicked smile across your face”.



Latterly, Frightened Rabbit have become king components of schmindie, as the sadly now-defunct Don’t Make Lists blog noted. Head Rolls Off is that wonderful combination of jangly guitars, overwrought vocals and hell-of catchy melodies that all the best schmindie has, along with grimly upbeat vocals. The break-up-tastic Good Arms Vs Bad Arms makes an endearing desperate point as a slightly overweight man suggests that because his exes arms fit all the way round him, they were made for him. It’s that kind of grim-faced optimism-cum-desperation which marks out the Rabbits.



There’s a mass of great schmindie. Andy Yorke’s band Unbelievable Truth managed a wonderfully understated version of schmindie with “Almost Here”, Snow Patrol flirted with it before they hit it big with Run and bigger with Chasing Cars (and mark the point where maybe schmindie meets Mondeo Pop). Delays added some synths and made You Need Colours, an incredibly underrated album. It always makes me sad that sensitive white boys with guitar get a bad rep from sneery look-at-me types. Granted we’re responsible for some utter shite like Longview and Haven (hint: if a band moves to Manchester to ‘try and make it’, they will be unspeakably dreadful), but c’mon. Every group is.

A Winged Victory For The Sullen

As anyone who reads my posts on here, I'm someone fascinated by context and association in music. The way that a certain song or album suddenly makes sense under a set of circumstances, often forming associations that may live with you for the rest of your life, provides an incredible insight into the interaction between sound and conscious.


As a result, I've absolutely adored The Guardian's 'My Favourite Album' series. Not once did they rest purely on academic dissection, but rather interweaved musical analysis with a glimpse into the associations they still have behind their album choice, almost a glimpse into their life at the time. It made for faultless reading. They nearly always fell into two categories: coming of age, or sad/major events in their lives, and as one writer put it when we discussed their piece the strongest associations come out of the saddest situations (in fact, my own nomination falls into that category, but remains shrouded in secrecy on the offchance someone spikes the drinks of either Mr Jonze or Mr Petridis over the holiday season and they come a-knocking. I appreciate this is pretty much guaranteed never to happen, but a man can dream.).

It's certainly true of my album of the year, A Winged Victory For The Sullen's self titled effort. I came back from this year's edition of Indietracks a broken and confused man, having experienced a bout of extreme exhaustion that had left me in my tent by 10:20pm on the Friday night, necessitated a 3 month rest period upon my return and left me unsure if I'd see my friends again before the year was out. Part of me would like to think it was totally unexpected, but looking back the signs were there in the week leading up to it. They must've been. My calendar shows that on top of my normal work I'd made 5 trips to Manchester in a month (including attending the penultimate edition of Pull Yourself Together and being awake for 32 out of 34 hours). Something would have to have given eventually.

Quite what possessed me to tackle a 14 mile walk halfway through the aforementioned 3 month self-imposed rest period remains a mystery - one of the legacies after arriving home from Indietracks was the 2 mile loop that gets trodden on (at least) thrice daily lay untouched. But as the miles got ticked off one by one, and the vast, widescreen soundscapes created by Dustin O' Halloran and Adam Wiltzie's masterpiece were matched only by the sundrenched shoreside vistas nearby the concerns that had blighted the weeks prior were suddenly no more. It was as glorious a feeling as the sounds that were permeating my ears.

The album itself is something of a curious beast. It's somehow escaped the Achilles heel that always seems to have afflicted other ambient albums; that feeling that the listener is being kept at arm's length from the sonic goings on – a sense of being allowed to hear the creations contained within instead of being in some way included. This is an album full of instrumentals which possess a surprising amount of warmth and emotion on top of a beauty verging on – and I know the use of this word is considered poor form, but I can't communicate it any other way – ethereal. At times (especially on Requiem For The Static King Pt. 2 and All Farewells Are Sudden) it feels quasi-cinematic, but never at any point does it feel as though it would work only in that sense. So inviting is the music, so easy is it to bask in, that it becomes the soundtrack to your own little film. You become the film. As an immersive listening experience it's almost impossible to fault.

I've also found that it has this innate ability to extract beauty from surroundings and situations. Views that I've seen countless times a day and become indifferent to suddenly make their qualities known again. Looking back, pretty much every occasion I've listened to the album while having access to scenery has been a special experience – be it the sunset over the endless fields of Southern England while on a train to London in November (which fittingly marked my return to travelling and exploring), or the surreal and odd experience of wandering through the maze of Sheffield's vast Park Hill estate on a bitterly cold December afternoon with the winter sun fading over the city. I can honestly think of no other record in my collection which has created so many potentially indelible associations between sound and vision.

The fact of the matter is, however, that no matter how hard I try I'll never be able to accurately sum up why I love the record, or how much I do. The inexorable links it's formed in the short time it's been in my life have become too complex and too personal to properly document. Why waste time elaborating any further on mine when you could be somewhere forming your own? What I do know is that these associations are merely garnish on a sumptuous and rich musical platter that the record has brought to the party solely on its own merits. If you find yourself at a loose end over the festive period, get yourself a copy, head off for a winter wander and see where the record takes you. I'm willing to wager you won't regret it.

Observations From An Arts Council Of Wales Consultation

Time for something new. While we over here usually just muck about posting comments on a 6-track shuffle on the mp3 player or blathering on about our favourite records, when the opportunity came about to sit in on a public consultation for the Arts Council of Wales' draft proposal for Funding for Music Industry development....well, you just have to, don't you?


The proposal is being jointly developed between the arts council and Welsh Music Federation (WMF), an organisation dedicated to helping organisation and people involved in music, funded solely by the Welsh government. Having already branched out to include international showcases at SXSW it has also been instrumental in bringing world music conference WOMEX to Cardiff in 2013, it has now instigated an investigation into the live music scene in Wales with a view to identifying and potentially solving problems inherent in the scheme of things at present and will provide a key role in dispersing money once the scheme gets under way.

I'm not going to discuss the document itself as such – it can be found here (www.artswales.org.uk/27313.file.dld) and doesn't especially constitute a vast amount of reading. I personally found it to be a surprisingly wide-ranging and comprehensive long term strategy, and most of my questions were addressed during the meeting. Those that weren't will be dealt with below. Instead I'm going to discuss the points made during the 90 minute consultation itself.

Given the current economic situation, there's a lot to admire about the creation of this proposal. The first is that it exists at all. The second is that its creators are prepared to venture out and talk to people 'on the ground' to gauge reaction and seek improvements. The third is that it's truly a Wales-wide venture, taking in cities across the South as well as pockets of activity in the North, such as the consultation I attended in Caernarfon. The ACoW from the outset has made it clear that this is to be a collaborative process between the industry and itself, and is actively encouraging the industry stakeholders – whatever they may be and however their interests may differ – to talk amongst themselves on the matter as well, in order to find a cohesive and comprehensive development package for the area. The body itself described the proposal during the meeting as an 'industry-led project focussed on music'.

With the Welsh being fiercely proud of its culture and identity (or parochial and small minded, depending on your point of view), the two most immediate issues of the meeting concerned Internationality and language. There appeared to be some element of contention of what exactly constituted an international outlook, with some people present suggesting it should constitute the rest of Britain, while others thought it more appropriate to attribute it to a global outlook (a suggestion was made for the two ideas to become in effect two separate levels of consideration). It was acknowledged that being truly international presented a wealth of new opportunities not only for artists and the production of records, but also for distribution and and marketing opportunities and formed a key component of any future long-term plans. This was matched with an element of caution, citing the market saturation of the Welsh literature market, where Welsh language books are being produced at far greater quantities than shops can ever hope to stock them, never mind sell. The mood in the room suggested that exposure for the Welsh music industry needed to be matched with sustainability in the long term, and suggestions were made regarding tie-ins for marketing and distribution solutions between the literature and music sectors.

The topic of language proved a complex and divisive topic, with the main point of contention being that at no point is it mentioned in the proposal. Delegates were quick to point out that language shouldn't interfere with the aims and objectives of the draft, and that it didn't want two separate systems to exist. One point that drew unanimous agreement was that language would inevitably form a central point relating to marketability and that the promotional needs for those end products would need to be altered accordingly. The ability to identify and address the issues and concerns to the choice of language an individual or organisation chooses during their application process will form a part of the selection process. It was noted – perhaps somewhat worryingly – that irrespective of language, the ability for small independent labels to get airplay of any sort was especially troublesome.

The attribution of funds to local, traditional forms of music also drew a strong reaction, with mentions of financial quotas to be created in order to ensure they get a fair say. ACoW and the WMF appeared reluctant to set these on the grounds that they didn't want to have to turn away projects based on the fact that a quota had been met, and likewise having to accept second rate projects in order to meet them. However, The discussion did bring up the possibility of greater links between local and traditional forms of music and the tourism industry.

A major problem for the industry at Wales at present is the aid given to the training of managers. Artists and organisations at present can receive training and development aid, but those wishing to provide a similar role freelance get no help whatsoever. It was acknowledged that this was an issue at the heart of the ACoW as a whole, rather than the proposal specifically. Talk also turned to giving musicians some form of business guidance to help them achieve the greatest amount possible with whatever financial assistance they receive – it was noted that for many young musicians it would be the first time they'd have come into money and guidance on spending to help deliver the greatest benefits may actually reward the Council in the long run if that project became successful.

ACoW are making it clear that they expect value for money for their investments, and have no qualms in stating that their ideal scenario would be for a project in which they've invested a modest amount delivers, whereby they can demand acknowledgement. They're keen on projects that will recycle the money given, allowing it to be used by other elements of the Welsh industry (for instance, an artist given money for recording would use it in a Welsh studio, rather than an English one) in the hope that in the long term, such continued investment will raise overall standards. Industry experts will sit in on panel discussion in order to ensure value for money is gained (tour managers can look at an artist's budget and suggest areas for improvement, etc). Investing in a label with a repertoire will provide better value than investing in a single artist. They're also clear in how they advertise it – not as a free for all to claim for a new synth etc but as something far more cohesive – and the high quality they will expect from applicants (talk of spending weeks, if not months, and a great deal of energy on the most competent, creative, and potentially viable submissions).

On the whole the document, I feel, touches upon most of the key points in the industry and identifies its current shortcomings well. If those involved take on board the concerns of those in the consultations and the process is as collaborative throughout the industry works as planned then I fail to see how, providing the submissions are up to scratch, the proposal can fail. Good luck to them. Granted to many there will be doubts concerning the lack of true 'grass roots' backing, but having been this afternoon it's easy to see how that isn't possible. There will be limited funds available and you can be seen to be giving them out left right and centre to every new band that started last week who may record a bunch of demos and then split up.

As always though, things are always going to be left out during a 90 minute consultation and what I'd like clarification about are the following:

What constitutes a 'strong track record'? What is the minimum required to be classed as having one?

When it talks about empowering promoters, is it talking purely of large-scale entities such as national opera companies – for example – or independent promoters that may be perfectly adept at their work but put on gigs to 200 people, if that?

When talking of giving financial aid to refurbish and improve venues, again what is exactly meant? A pub backroom? A dedicated small gig venue (such as Leeds' Brudenell)? A 1000-capacity venue etc.

These are but 3 small areas of clarification on what is, as I said, actually quite a detailed document. If you've any queries about it, then do as I'll be doing in due course and contact the people behind it via the means listed in the proposal that's linked on here, by 25th January.

CHRISTMAS

 Working in retail around Christmas poses a problem. Well, not even working in it around Christmas. I started working on Christmas promotions and the like in August. As a result, the past few years have meant I'm so sick of that damn festive period malarkey that I've never really enjoyed it. It remains to be seen whether this'll play out again this year, but one thing is for certain: I've realised this year just how many Christmas songs I bloody love – being subjected to them via a piped playlist means you hear them on repeat in quick succession. If they stand up in that environment, they'll stand up anywhere. Here are some of my favourites (playlisted or not), and some ham-fisted attempts at trying to work out why.

The Pretenders - 2000 Miles

Right, let's get the elephant in the room out in the open so we can move on: most Christmas songs have all the nuance and subtlety of Noddy Holder jumping out from behind your tree as you open your presents and ejaculating into your face while shouting 'IT'S JIZZMAAAAAAASSS!'. Granted, part of the appeal of yuletide pophits is their bombast but it's still refreshing when someone does it with a sense of restraint. Enter The Pretenders. A plaintive guitar line, Chrissie Hynde's soaring vocals, and an overall sense of effortless, sweeping majesty. Behold, a timeless festive classic.



Brenda Lee - Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree

This really is just sonic crack isn't it? I defy anyone to listen to it and not find themselves whistling along by the second verse or so. As ever with songs this simple the devil's in the detail - the trebly guitar lines to garnish, the wall of backing vocals as required. Stone cold classic.



The Waitresses - Christmas Wrapping

POST-PUNK CHRISTMAS PARTY.



Julian Casablancas - I Wish it Was Christmas Today

Yes it's a Saturday Night Live song turned into a single, but as Smith and Burrows have proven rather comprehensively pious Christmas songs just souund downright awful. As such, perhaps it's time to celebrate a Christmas song that has its tongue wedged so firmly in its cheek that it looks like a precocious teen insinuating a blow job. You can almost see the knowing winks betwixt Casablancas and the studio engineers as he drawls out every last letter of the 'heeeeee-uhhhhhh/cheeeeee-uhhhhhh' rhyme. It almost sounds like he's having FUN, which is not only what Christmas should be about, but is a welcome surprise from someone who recently appears to believe the only present becoming of his Strokes-mates would be a faceful of sherry glass after Christmas dinner.



The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Wanna Fight Tonight)

The Ramones doing a Christmas song poses a problem. Yes, they adored all the 60s pop and what have you, but Christmas is usually about love, and the kind of weird fucked up romance that masqueraded as love on a Ramones record doesn't really fit the bill. Answer: make a Christmas song where one half of a (I assume ordinarily) volatile and tempestuous relationship makes a plea to the other to have a nice, pleasant day. Slightly warped Ramones relationship, and a cosy concilliatory normal Christmas get whacked by the same stone. BOOM. Also manages to do all of the above while sounding unmistakeably Ramones-y. Wall of guitars? Check. Sub 3 minute song duration? Check. Pop sensibility? Check. Cracking.



Darlene Love – All Alone On Christmas


Four words: Clarence Clemons saxophone solo.



Darlene Love – Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

Just to rub it in everyone's face, Darlene Love made not one, but two incredible Christmas songs. While the last one was built around a behemoth of a saxophone line, this one does it all by itself (despite having a decent sax solo itself). In a moment of madness I almost chose the Slow Club cover over the original, before seeing sense and realising you can't really pick a cover over a Phil Spector original. Behold as the wall of 'CHRISTMAS!' that gets wheeled out throughout the song buries itself into your subconscious, and the way the drums go all staccato and the brass builds as each passage ends. Quite the intoxicating mixture. Altogether now: CHRISTMAAASSSS!



Badly Drawn Boy – Donna and Blitzen

In the same way that The Pretenders is understated brilliance, so Badly Drawn Boy's festive offering from a few years ago in unwavering in its class and majesty. From the opening strings of the intro you know it's going to be something special, and from the gentle, lilting piano line to the cascading strings building to a crescendo it never stops being anything else than staggering. To take what's actually a simple, repeating melody and turn it into something so complete is an incredible achievement. To me, it's a criminally underrated Yuletide record.



The Pogues and Kirsty McColl – Fairytale Of New York


So then, here it is. The veritable DADDY of Christmas songs. I remember a few years back staying up late, well into the small hours of the morning, to watch a 90 minute documentary on its creation. I may have almost been falling asleep into my dinner the next day but by Christ it was worth it. It's also the only song to have led me to join in on a sing-a-long comprising an entire pub (a Scream pub. Winter 2008. Drink, I can only guess, must've been involved somewhere). There's not a vast amount to be said that hasn't been said before – McGowan's heartbreaking intro sets the scene for the tale, before the towering behemoth of a chorus steals the show. It's utterly immense and it speaks volumes that a) nothing has come close to matching it in well over 20 years and 2) the public outcry when the BBC threatened to ban it from the radio a couple of years ago for using the word 'faggot'. Cue a lot of backtracking.

But it also raises the issue of how sad some of the most famous Christmas songs actually are. We've already covered Darlene Love's odes to lonely festive days, but you'd have to be totally heartless not to be moved when McGowan's character pleads to MacColl's for forgiveness, citing 'I've built my dreams around you' as proof of his dedication. Even Wham!'s Last Christmas gets in on the Christmas heartbreak train, being the ultimate quasi-Bullseye 'here's what you could've won' tale; the musical equivalent of Den Watts serving Angie the divorce papers in arguably Eastenders' most famous moment back in 1986.


 
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY.

Six Shuffle #3 - 6th November 2011

Six Shuffle is a feature where our writers play six tracks from their musical library whilst on shuffle and write thoughts on the track during the track length, no matter what song comes on or how long the song is.

The Hope Conspiracy – They Know Not…

This is the first track from The Hope Conspiracy’s ‘Death Knows Your Name’ which was released back in 2006. For them, it’s a pretty dense and taunt opener. The build is a slow, but when it finally hits, vocalist Kevin Baker is straining to be heard over the rattling percussion which is seriously loud. It’s a gruff, stomping tune that stays seesawing on this howl of venomous fury and layers of trepidation. Most notable for Baker’s roar of “GUILTY! WE’RE ALL GUILTY FUCKING PIGS!” – remember: hardcore – never gonna be happy.

Lagwagon – Alien 8 (Live)

What’s with the first track choosing? Ok, this is from Lagwagon’s ‘Live In A Dive’ – I don’t know about you, but Joey Cape is seriously one of the best punk rock vocalists around. Sure, he’s pretty nasal – but the dude has range and he’s usually in tune and his solo stuff is brilliant (check out his album ‘Acoustic’). For a live recording, this is incredibly clear, with minimal crowd cheering; a chance to hear Cape’s impressive voice and some good old Fat Wreck punk played with passion and speed.

Green Day – Scattered

I can’t stand Green Day now – their preachy, diluted, piss-water political ‘songs’ are an embarrassment. In a perfect world, they split after ‘Warning!’ and lived off of repeats of the ‘Basket Case’ video. Enough hating – ‘Scattered’ is one of my favourite tracks from ‘Nimrod’, an album that was pretty experimental for Green Day – featuring ska, surf rock instrumentals and harsh vocals. This track is pretty standard for them back in 1997, 3 minutes of no-bullshit, thoughtful punk rock done when they had some dignity and charm.

Jetplane Landing – Conventional Thought

One of my all time favourite bands right here. I first got into them at University – seeing they were playing in the Refectory (don’t ask, the bar was being used for some other event) and hearing ‘Acrimony’ from a Rock Sound compilation I went and bought ‘Once Like A Spark’, spent the day listening to it, then headed down to what was the canteen and had now become a makeshift music venue. One terrific gig later, a t-shirt sold to me by the singer and my ears ringing I knew that this band would be a big part in shaping my musical taste. Ripping off Fugazi has never sounded so good, nor has the post-hardcore racket, wailing guitars and ever-changeable spoken/sung/shouted vocals on ‘Conventional Thought.’ I still remember chanting “THEY MADE ME DO IT!” in the refectory and that was over 7 years ago.

Rancid – Coppers

Let’s get experimental! I reckon Rancid were listening to a lot of ‘Sandinsta!’ when they recorded this. ‘Coppers’ is taken from ‘Life Won’t Wait’ – their most diverse sounding album. I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever heard this song. Its 5 minutes long as well. Both Lars Frederiksen and Tim ‘HERON HERON IT’S ALL GONE’ Armstrong share vocal duties and some bloke called Dr. Israel raps on the chorus. Featuring steel drums, a reggae effect and that ska sound present from ‘And Out Come The Wolves.’ I actually really like this – might have to give ‘Life Won’t Wait’ a proper spin through again sometime as it’s been a while and any chance to hear Tim Armstrong’s hilarious singing voice again.

Taking Back Sunday – Faith (When I Let You Down)

I’m so pleased Taking Back Sunday are back with their original line-up. John Nolan really is the greatest. Him and Captain Mic-swing Lazzara compliment each other superbly, especially on this. Both harsh and clean vocals mixing nicely and overlapping, this is just what you want in your emo. I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of metaphor for them reuniting again “please don’t lose your faith in me…I’m not going anywhere…” This is from their self-titled 5^th album, which to be fair, is a return to form for a band that have been so splintered since ‘Tell All Your Friends.’

Bonus seventh spin

We Are The Union – I’m Like John Cusack…

(If you’re wondering, it sounds like Four Year Strong meets some trumpets.)