30 Day Song Challenge (Gareth's Edition)

Alrighty, so those of you who're on Facebook are probably well aware of the 30 day Song Challenge that's floating about at the minute. Being the impatient sod what I am (and potentially lazy too) I can't really be bothered doing it one song a day, so instead I'm doing it one massive burst, with a Spotify link to each song, and a link to a full uninterrupted playlist at the end. Owing to the fact it centres around Spotify some choices reflect that. I'd love to be able to put in a Felt song but as none are available on the aforementioned streaming service I'll have to do without. Oh, and for those wondering why I've out my name in brackets in the post title, it's because I've no idea if anyone else is doing one, so to leave it merely as 30 Day Song Challenge could, in time, confuse. Yes.

Song 1: Your favourite song - I don't really have an all time favourite song, so I'm going with one of my favourite new discoveries. It's called Sunset by Selebrities and it sounds like a corss between OMD and Wild Nothing. Which makes it brilliant, naturally. I've yet to introduce this song to someone who hasn't enjoyed it. Selebrities – Sunset

Song 2: Your least favourite song - There are too many to choose here, but I'm going to go for Mika's Grace Kelly. There aren't many musicians (sorry, 'musicians') that I'd want to clobber in the face with a spade, but if I was keeping a list this bubble-perm'd sod would be high up it. Especially after this abomination MIKA – Grace Kelly

Song 3: A song that makes you happy - I'm going to cheat ever so slightly on this one. The song itself is a sad one lyrically ('Emma's house is empty, so why do I call it Emma's house?') but musically has a set of great jangly guiar lines that keep it just the right side of melancholic. But in reality my reaction to it is linked to memories: discovering it at 17, hearing a friend drop it on NYE (the first time I'd heard it in a club), the fact another friend always seems to play it when I go to his clubnight. All happy wholesome stuff. In fact, such is my unbridled joy at hearing it on nights out that I now get told 'Gareth, the DJ's just uttered the magic words!' (the magic words being that he's about to play this song) The Field Mice – Emma's House

Song 4: A song that makes you sad - Again, it's to do with association. I recently asked for people's suggestions for songs about friendships for something that may or may not see the light of day in future. One of them came from someone's who's rapdily become one of my best friends but is soon to move further away. This, coupled with the beauty of the song and its ruminations on friendship combine to mean it's something of a challenge to sit through it all. Lovely as it is. Adem – These Are Your Friends

Song 5: A song that reminds you of someone - Growing up on Anglesey, there weren't many people I knew who cared about music as much I did/do. In fact, I knew but one person. Then he went to live in Vietnam for a year. This song is full of references to Ho Chi Minh city (where he lives) so it always makes me think of him. That and the fact we were both huge Clash fans when he was still here. Just before he went we went around the pubs of the nearest University city in fresher's week just after MIA's Paper Planes came out (which for those who don't know, samples Straight To Hell), and kept putting on the Clash song and watching everyone get confused. It sounds like a twattish thing to do, and it probably was. Still funny though. The Clash – Straight To Hell

Song 6: A song that reminds you of somewhere: I can remember listening to this in my final year of university, sat in the library during the Autumn months watching the rain-battered windswept courtyard out the window and revelling in how warm and dry I was inside. This song plus the library's calming atmosphere always put me at ease James Yorkston – When The Haar Rolls In

Song 7: A song that reminds you of an event - I've never been a massive White Stripes fan, but I can just remember going apeshit to this at the last night of last year's Indietracks, surrounded by the myriad of people I'd met and who'd later go on to become great friends and thinking the world was a great place. Which for that sub 2 minute period it was. The White Stripes – Fell In Love With A Girl

Song 8: A song that you know all the words to: David Tattersall's always had an odd way with words, so deciphering the pyrics to Wave Pictures songs has never been the easiest of tasks. When the song is this good, and this catchy, it was/is worth the effort. The Wave Pictures – I Love You Like A Madman

Song 9: A song that you can dance to: Anyone can dance to this. Hell, even the title implores you to. David Bowie – Let's Dance (Single Version)

Song 10: A song that makes you fall asleep - Eno's stuff is always pretty dreamlike at the best of times. Chuck in the fact it was made for a film about the Apollo missions and it's a bonafide snooze inducer. It's pretty haunting and beautific if you stay awake through it all, though. So you win either way. Brian Eno – An Ending (Ascent)

Song 11: A song from your favourite band - I don't really have a favourite band but Orange Juice would probably be right up there. I keep looking back at their old press photos (especially around 1980/81) and wishing I was that suave and dressed that well. A man can but dream....Orange Juice – Rip It Up

Song 12: A song from a band you hate - This one is stupidly vague. Am I meant to just post a song from any band I hate, or a song I like from a band I hate? I have no idea. I'm going to go with the latter. In 2008 in a rare moment of weakness I got sucked into the Glasvegas hype. Even bought the album. Over time, i realised it was a load of bobbins, except for this track. It posesses all the elements that I dislike about Glasvegas (not least James Allen's ridiculous over-wrought vocals) yet it somehow survives the chopping block. Glasvegas – Geraldine

Song 13: A song that's a guilty pleasure - Let's face it, glam rock was a lovely bit of pantomime that added colour to a dour period culuturally, for a few years in the 1970s. However, its musical legacy hasn't really stood the test of time. Why then, do I still find it fun to flounce around to this, imagining I've got bell botoom flares on and stars stuck to my face? Sweet – Blockbuster

Song 14: A song no-one would expect you to like - Another daft one. No-one as in no-one at all? Half the people I associate with don't even know I like music, never mind what kinds I'm into. I don't know, I'm a bit stumped by this one to be honest, so I'll just go with this. Stupidly good fun to go apeshit to in a club. Motörhead – Ace Of Spades

Song 15: A song that describes you: The first two lines do the trick perfectly. The way they get sneered with no hint of self-pity or sadness is just brilliant. The second line might actually be my epitaph in due course, I'm not sure. Magazine – A Song From Under The Floorboards

Song 16: A song you used to love but now hate - The first couple of times I heard this I thought it was nice enough, but the more exposure I got to it the more I realised it was nauseating, disposable piffle that came perilously close to being beyond twee. I've not heard it since 2007/8 and have no intention of doing so again. Ever. Noah And The Whale – 5 Years Time

Song 17: A song you often hear on the radio - Time for another dose of spin. I (criminally) very rarely listen to the radio. The last time I did put in a concerted effort to do so was when 6music was in danger of being shut down. In the midst of what was quite a dark time for the station Lauren Laverne played this, and it seemed to be like a clarion call to resist the BBC's calls for closure. The station was saved and the song has stayed with me since. The Chameleons – Up The Down Escalator

Song 18: A song you wished you heard on the radio - Ironically, the first time I heard this song *was* on the radio. Lawrence from Felt (yes, that band again) played it on his show for the week of Domino radio that went out not long ago. It's Ian Broudie's pre-Lightning Seeds vehicle and it shows he was pretty handy at writing a song even back then (the early 80s). I've already decided that if I ever get in position to DJ on even a semi-regular basis this will be my signature song/joker up my sleeve. It's utterly magnificent. Care – Flaming Sword

Song 19: A song from your favourite album - As with bands, I don't really have a favourite album. There are those that are ever present at the top of my list but nothing ever really makes the top spot. This song's parent album will rank quite highly though, so I'll go for that for now. Hefner – Good Fruit

Song 20: A song you listen to when you're angry - These days I try not to listen to 'angry' songs when I'm pissed off. I either try and wait it out before putting on music or put something on that puts things in perspective and makes me snap out of it (more on that later). There was a time where I'd put this on though. It just seems to have this inherent pent-up rage waiting to burst out of it. Joy Division – Shadowplay

Song 21: A song you listen to when you're happy: I know this is probably too twee for some, and to an extent I agree with that sentiment. BUT, you have to be a heartless bastard to not have any element of happiness shine through when the recorder solo kicks in Belle & Sebastian – The Boy With the Arab Strap

Song 22: A song you listen to when you're sad - Let's face it, when we're sad we tend to want to wallow in it for a bit before picking ourselved back up. What better way to wallow than with 8 minutes of mournful Scottish melancholic pop. I picked this album up at a gig in March, then forgot to put it on until May and was blown away by it. It's a great album, and it's well worth listening to the whole thing. State Broadcasters – Archie's Tears

Song 23: A song you want played at your wedding - This is a tough one. Really, really tough. I've chosen this because it's about the notion of taking your partner's mundane quirks and foibles that most other people would find irritating, and turning them into something endearing and worth celebrating. Surely that's what love's about, right? Pelle Carlberg – I Love You, You Imbecile

Song 24: A song you want played at your funeral - This one started off as a joke and is now at a point whether I'm not actually sure if I'm serious or not. It would be gloriously daft, and I've always wanted my funeral to be something happy, not mournful. Getting people to dance in the aisles to this would encapsulate that idea perfectly. Electric Light Orchestra (Elo) – Mr Blue Sky (As an aside, other parts of the service include starting the service with my casket being crowdsurfed through the church to Born To Run, and at some point having Sid Vicious' cover of My Way blaring out. Again, I'm not really sure how serious these ideas are at this moment in time)

Song 25: A song that makes you laugh - It's a song about 1970s print pronography, told in a dry Mancunian accent. It's beyond funny. It's hilarious. JCC doesn't always cross that well over the North/South divide, but give it a spin anyway, you might enjoy it. John Cooper Clarke – Readers Wives

Song 26: A song you can play on an instrument - This has been a bugger to think of. I can't play an instrument save for an abortive attempt at the drums about 8+ years ago, and I was shit at them at the time, let alone now. Nonetheless, still reckon I could give this a good go given a bit of practice This Many Boyfriends – I Should Be A Communist

Song 27: A song you wish you could play on an instrument - I keep threatening to take up the ukulele, mainly because I'm too lazy and impatient to take up the guitar and figure it's a million times easier. I place the blame firmly at MJ Hibbett and Allo Darlin for this notion. If/when I get one/learn to play, i really want to learn the Allo Darlin song cannon. Such as this one Allo, Darlin' – Dreaming

Song 28: A song that makes you feel guilty - I touched upon this earlier during the 'song that you listen to when angry' entry. Not that long ago I was angry at some friends over some imagined slight (I can't actually remember the exact details, not that you need them), and went for a walk. While on a walk this came on, and it made me realise my petulance and put things in perspective. Having friends who're without exception far away (and some who will soon be even further), the line 'and it struck me to say while so far away you are with me today, you're here in my head, in my heart' always - without fail - kills me. Elbow – dear friends (See also: Scattered Black & Whites. That song always makes me guilty about people I've wronged and lost touch with over the years)

Song 29: A song from your childhood - I remember this coming out in 1996, and thinking it was pretty good at the time. I think it's even better now. Clearly 8 year old me did have something approaching taste. Sleeper – Sale Of The Century

Song 30: Your favourite song from this time last year - As I've said countless times, I've never really done out and out favourite songs at any point in recent memory, so I'm just going to post one of 'there or thereabouts' top songs for your listening pleasure and end this on a high. Nigh-on7 minutes of glockenspiel led Budweiser advertising pop perfection/mayhem anyone? YES.  Los Campesinos! – You! Me! Dancing!

And put it all together and what've you got? No, not the Bitsa theme (cool though that would be) but a Spotify playlist, in its entirety. Here you go you lovely, lovely people 30 Day Song Challenge

No Sleep 'Till Woodlsey Road: 12 Hrs on The Road With This Many Boyfriends'

I don’t know how many of you have been reading Nick Kent’s latest offering ‘Apathy for the Devil’, but if you haven’t, you should, if only for an insight into the music industry in the 1970s. I haven’t yet finished his tales of 1973 and he’s already done cocaine with Led Zeppelin at 3am (fact of the day: my mum – a former swimming instructor – taught Robert Plant’s kids to swim), been taken on an all expenses jaunt around Europe with the Rolling Stones and seems to be on the cusp of boning Chrissie Hynde. Not a bad life, eh?

So, with this in mind – coupled with a desire to finish my 2 weeks off work in style and an even greater desire to escape the insanity-inducing mundane provincial hellhole where I reside – I decided over the bank holiday weekend to stage my own, albeit much smaller, version. Though without trying to bone Chrissie Hynde, obviously, as she a) is rather too old for me these days and b) was nowhere to be seen anyway. The band who had the unfortunate task of putting up with me were Leeds-based indie-poppers This Many Boyfriends. You probably haven’t heard them or indeed of them, and that is why you have no job, and are single, have no friends, and aren’t loved by your own mother. You may think it’s down a load of other contributing factors, but you’d be wrong – it’s all down to you not having heard TMB (as they shall henceforth be referred to throughout this article). Musically, descriptions involving the words ‘C86’ ‘The Pastels’ ‘Shop Assistants’ and (for those with a death wish) ‘twee’ can usually be found, but for me it’s best described as a joyous cacophony which includes a healthy dose of what seems to be missing in a lot of music these days – fun.

But before we go any further, I need to make a couple of admissions. Firstly, as I only decided to embark on this mission the day before it took place (and only decided to write about it halfway through the day itself), I didn’t take a Dictaphone. As a result, it’s going to be based purely on anecdotal evidence and what I can remember. Not the most professional of approaches, granted, but at least I am owning up to it. Secondly, this is hardly going to be a neutral piece. I would like to think I could class all band members as friends, to the extent that if I was an MP I could probably claim 2nd home allowance on drummer Lauren and guitarist Adam’s sofa over the last month given the amount of time I’ve spent on there. Having said that, as I intoned to singer Richard’s dad at one point ‘Thing is, if I liked the people but hated the music, I’d just arrange to meet them down the pub, not at their gigs’.

However, it was at a gig which I did indeed meet them, and so after an epic 4hr journey to Leeds I breezed into Escobar (part of the May bank holiday Live At Leeds event) to be greeted by drummer Lauren, and guitarists Adam and Jamie (thereby apparently causing much amusement by doing the always-entertaining ‘walking into somewhere to meet someone as they’re texting you’ routine). Given the roller-coaster week Adam and Lauren had had up until this point, it was pleasing to see them in such high spirits, as was Richard. Bassist Tom (the FB fan page states that all band members have the same surname – Boyfriend – like The Ramones, Los Campesinos! and…..err, The Fratellis. Yet to see this monikers actually mentioned in the real world, though.) was absent owing to other pressing engagements, and as such was replaced by respected Pulp biographer Mark Sturdy for the day. After the inevitable catching up, drinks buying and consuming, and handbag watching (an event I’m pretty sure never befell Nick Kent or Lester Bangs) TMB finally afford me the opportunity to hear new compositions ‘Young Lovers Go Pop’ and a yet-to-be-titled 6 minute epic alongside old favourites (well, to me anyway) ‘I Don’t Like You (Cos You Don’t Like The Pastels)’, ‘Trying Is Good’, and ‘#1’. Unexpectedly being gestured up by Richard to add backing vocals to the group sing-a-long at the end of ‘It’s Lethal’ unfortunately led to nothing more than an embarrassed, flustered me, an empty microphone, and a vague promise of actually doing it at that evening’s gig in Bradford once I’d had a few drinks. Meanwhile, raucous closing number ‘That’s What Diaries Are For’ is on this occasion heralded by TMB’s resident Scotsman, Jamie, doing a scarily accurate approximation of Gladiators referee John Anderson’s ‘CONTENDERS, ARE YOU READY?’ catchphrase. Afterwards, spirits are high; as well they might be considering this gig was in reality (in the band’s eyes) nothing more than a warm-up for the evening’s show in Bradford. While the post-mortem is underway however, Lauren had a problem, and quite a serious one at that. A quick flick through my pictures of the set had given her concerns about her choice of attire and more specifically about the levels of midriff on show. Suddenly, buying a belt became a top priority.

So it was then, that while the ever-professional Richard sorted out the logistics of transporting the equipment to Bradford, myself, Lauren, Adam and Mark hit Leeds city centre to satisfy our respective top priorities: buying a belt (Lauren), getting some food (me, Mark and Adam), and getting a drink in (all of us). Having taken in a late lunch over which conversation ranged from Mark’s encyclopaedic knowledge of all things relating to (that evening’s headliner) Hefner and Darren Hayman to passing wind on small children in the workplace, it was time to embark on the 20 minute train ride to Bradford. It was at this juncture that Mark decided to press the button marked Frank Spencer/Spinal Tap, and end up separated from us and on the wrong train. To Wakefield. This was confusing/amusing/mildly annoying in equal measures. Confusing as Mark had bought tickets at exactly the same time as us, yet somehow lost us. Amusing because 1) he was the promoter of the Bradford gig in question, and 2) only over our post-gig lunch he’d said that every time he’d booked Darren Hayman something had gone wrong (the previous two occasions had seen Darren arriving with nothing more than Hefner merchandise to wear having had his car broken into the night before, and being badly beaten up outside a gig in Nottingham late last year). Mildly annoying for the band as they would be without a bassist until at least 7pm (it would be even later than that as Mark would realise on the way back that he’d left a drum pedal in Escobar – scene of TMB’s earlier gig – prompting a rapid dash via cab from station to venue and back again before eventually rejoining the rest of the band much nearer 7:30pm), while we’d arrived not long after 6pm. Richard, using the power of a fatherly taxi service was there even before us. Impressive.

It was now that I first encountered the aforementioned headliner Darren Hayman, and to be honest it was something of a car crash moment. Quite literally, as he nearly ran me, Lauren, Adam and Jamie over on the venue’s narrow driveway as he drove up it and we walked down. For those of you Hayman-ites desperate to know what kind of car a British indie-pop legend drives, it’s a new shape mid-blue Ford Focus. Once out of his car, the quiet, unassuming individual one might assume Mr Hayman to be given his music is very much in force. This is hardly surprising given the events of the last few months, and anyone who’s heard of his plight of late could only look on with a mix of understanding and sympathy, as well as find his desire to apologise to Mark later on for his perceived introversion and quietness wholly unnecessary. From the outset it’s clear that TMB adore him, Mark and Richard especially. An exchange with Richard after the weekend elicited the following quote, which provides a pretty succinct summary of why he’s so loved by the band ‘Darren was absolutely AMAZING. Ten billion times better than us. You’re following the wrong band! TMB HEART DARREN HAYMAN. You should listen to Hefner. It was a huge, huge privilege to support him. He's the reason I started this band. Therefore he will always be better than us when we play together. We probably wouldn't exist without him’ (for the record, I do listen to Hefner. No idea where Richard got the impression I don’t!). An unexpected highlight was watching a full run-through of Hefner’s ‘Good Fruit’ during his soundcheck (along with the realisation that one of his Secondary Modern backing band was also a member of ‘Allo Darlin’, a great band which you should go listen to if you already haven’t).


A swift changeover followed, where TMB’s soundcheck was accompanied by a testing of the stage lights. The difference it made to the venue was incredible, as can be seen from the contrasting images posted in the link to be found at the bottom of the page). Richard, having viewed my photos, has described them pre-lighting as looking like they played in an aircraft hanger, which in fairness to Bradford’s Theatre in the Mill probably says more about my photography skills than anything else. During soundcheck I fast came to the conclusion that ‘Young Lovers Go Pop’ was my new favourite TMB song, though in retrospect it’s running close with ‘It’s Lethal’, ‘I Don’t Like You (Cos You Don’t Like The Pastels)’ or indeed ‘Trying Is Good’…it’s genuinely hard to choose. I also discovered somewhere around this point that you never, ever ask Jamie as a joke to play ‘Duelling Banjos’ from the Deliverance soundtrack on an acoustic guitar, because the skilful bastard will actually do it, and you’ll spend the next 5 minutes trying to pick your jaw off the floor. Some post-soundcheck envy of Nick Kent unfortunately occurred, however. While at his peak he seemed to enjoy going to fine dining establishments and gentleman’s clubs with the likes of Keith Richards, Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood and enjoying the luxuries that such jaunts inevitably brought, my ‘tea’ consisted of a packet of Walkers crisps and a 69p can of 7.5% white cider (which, believe me, was as grim as it sounds), as this was pretty much all that was available from what seemed to be the only shop within a reasonable walking distance of the venue.


After a brief sojourn with Adam outside the venue to finish our respective tipples – he chose the slightly more palatable Carlsberg – during which I learned that while intoxicated he once made the rather amusing assertion that David Cameron was his favourite fictional creature. Politicians as fictional creatures, would, unfortunately have to wait as music beckoned – you, dear reader, could be forgiven that this was nearly a secondary issue given the fact I’ve mentioned seemingly ‘everything but’ for a while now. The first act was The French Defence, essentially a vehicle for a criminally shy young songwriter called Owen (though there was a full band in past incarnations). It was clear that he’d been to the Bobby Wratten school of songwriting, all heartbreak and anguish, and as such it wasn’t surprising to find Trembling Blue Stars, and Field Mice listed as his influences on his Myspace. As a huge Bobby Wratten fan, however, this was no bad thing, despite the feeling that given the slightly more up-tempo and fuller-sounding efforts of TMB and Darren Hayman, The French Defence was perhaps a strange choice for an opening act. No matter.

But Richard meant business. This much was clear just by looking at him. Since the Escobar gig he’d raised the sartorial stakes by donning a shirt, jacket and tie, to put him right up there with Mark’s post-punk outfit (who’d spent the day looking – and playing, though sadly not dancing – like OMD’s Andy McCluskey). Richard’s assertions post-Escobar that everything sounded great but needed to be ‘tightened up’ appeared to have been noted and processed (not that it sounded anything less than brilliant at Escobar), with ‘Young Lovers Go Pop’ rattling along like the bastard son of The Cribs’ ‘Our Bovine Public’, while ‘I Should Be A Communist’ got an airing – an omission at Escobar owing to time constraints. Yours truly didn’t get invited back on stage during the Orange Juice melody-meets-Michael Stipe lyrical ambiguity of’It’s Lethal’ as in Leeds, which was understandable. Getting what could be viewed as indie-pop’s answer to Bez to run on stage, ‘sing’ the same 4 words 8 times then disappear again is certainly an unorthodox, and risky, way to make an impression in front of one of you musical heroes, and one which is probably fated to fail from the outset. The fact they did it un-amped only added to the pressure, which they all handled very well. At this point it’s worth mentioning Mark’s efforts to learn the basslines in a limited space of time. Yes, he may have needed crib sheets at his feet to remind him, but nonetheless a sterling, mistake free effort. In fact, the only hiccough all day was when Jamie’s guitar lead cut out during the un-named 6 minute epic, and even that was sorted in impressively short order. For a band that describes itself as shambolic, it was an impressively tight performance all day. Credit where it’s due. A set-closing version of ‘Diaries’ saw Jamie get all Angus Young and scale a speaker while Richard made his way into the audience (which owing to a quirk of the Theatre could be found sat behind tables, making the whole gig feel like a really weird secondary school-level music lesson) and back to the stage. Post-gig Richard could be found beaming madly (as he had been the first time I’d seen them play in Manchester in January) while professing how much fun the whole experience had been - clearly fun has been on his agenda too, as it always is mine when discussing the music.

Much as I’d love to comment in depth about Darren Hayman’s set, I’m unable to. Firstly, because the last train left halfway through it, prompting all but Mark and Richard to leave early, and secondly, a mix of spirits in Leeds and cider in Bradford has rendered this bit of the story little more than a hazy blur, embarrassingly enough.


Some people can come up with great ways to sum things up in a sentence – F1 driver Nelson Piquet once described the Monaco GP circuit as ‘like riding a unicycle round your bathroom’ while Pennie Smith once described being around The Clash was ‘like being on a commando raid with the Bash Street Kids’. As you can probably tell, I’m not one of those people. Put it this way, I spent the next day shaking due to sleep deprivation, and I didn’t regret a thing (incidentally, the only other time I got the sleep-deprivation shakes was after pulling an all nighter when I attended Underachievers Please Try harder, Britain’s best-kept clubnight secret – put an attendance on your bucket list. Didn’t regret it then, either). Let me at least try and give a soundbite-sized approximation: the 12 hours or so I spent with TMB appeared to be the perfect encapsulation of what I’ve always perceived their music to be about. Fun.

(NOTE: I had a beautiful layout with many many pictures set out in a word document, which Blogger then failed to copy over and then then turned into an arse when i tried to upload them all. SO, if you want to gander at the day's adventures they can be found in the link just below. The first 4 pictures are from a January set at Manchester's Saki Bar)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=219007&id=602766211&l=62a6b97989

(Other) Useful links:

This Many Boyfriends’ MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/howmanyboyfriends
This Many Boyfriends’ Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/This-Many-Boyfriends/137800675723?ref=ts
This Many Boyfriends EP Pre-Order: http://www.thismanyboyfriends.com/
Underachievers Please Try Harder: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/group.php?gid=13022864321&ref=ts
Mark Sturdy’s Pulp tome: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/0711995990/ref=sib_rdr_dp
(Mark’s advice is buy while you can, the book has gone out of print and what you can find online/in shops are going to be the last copies!)

A Poorly Constructed, Impulsively Written Eulogy on Sarah Records.

Despite owning a lot of music, I can’t really say I’ve ever felt any great affinity for any one particular label. I doubt the majority of people can, truth be told. It’s becoming especially difficult in these times of mergers, takeovers, subsidiaries and imprints and all. One can imagine fewer more horrifying (or, depending on your viewpoint and/or level of imagination, amusing) situations than some holier-than-thou scenester discovering his beloved, aesthetically perfect independent label is in fact owned by Universal or somesuch.

However, every rule has its exception, and my exception to my ‘not having a favourite record label’ rule is Sarah Records. I fully appreciate the irony in me taking the piss out of holier-than-thou scenesters in the above paragraph when 1) I am admitting to having a favourite record label and 2) that label happens to be one of the twee-est, most scene labels ever. Thing is though, I tried and tried to come up with another equivalent, and the closest thing I could come up with was Factory – yes I love a large number of their releases, and yes I love the anarchic, haphazard way in which it was run, but I still only admire it, and don’t look upon it with any great deal of affection (or as much affection as you can ever festoon upon such a strange entity as a record label).

I think part of it is due to the timing of me ‘discovering’ Sarah Records. I suppose in 6th form I would’ve been classed as someone who never really fitted into what was expected of someone that age. Instead of being a borderline sex-pest intent on either getting an other half or a quick shag (either in or out of school) while hammered on WKD (outside of school), I fell in with the people who also never fitted in anywhere else – you know the social sets; the posh kids, the jocks (and in our case the uber-Welsh kids). Let me say here and now we had one fuck of a laugh. While everyone else was being relatively civilised we were the ones blaring out music throughout the lunch hour, having food fights, considering a can of strawberry squirty cream to be an acceptable lunch (that was mainly me, to be fair) and having near weekly bouts of boxing matches and our lounge-famous ‘bloodsport Fridays’ (sample activity: sticking drawing pins through a trip of masking tape, sticking that onto the toecaps of our shoes, and kicking each other in the shins….oh, happy days!). Naturally in amongst all this anarchy girls featured pretty infrequently, at least in the romantic sense. That’s not to say crushes never existed (or indeed weren’t ridiculed by the others) amongst our number, and it was during all this mayhem and sometimes frankly awful music (anime soundtracks, anyone?) that a friend first introduced me to the Field mice.

For those not familiar with The Field Mice (or indeed most of Sarah Records’ output), then the music has a theme of unrequited love, crushed feelings and the like, all dished up with enticing melodies. At a time where every other artist was either writing songs about how great it was to be in love, or how shit it all was when they go their heartbroken at the end of it all, this was a breath of fresh air. Naturally it’s hard to identify with a song that couldn’t be any cornier if the singer was playing an acoustic version of ‘Your Body Is A Temple’ starkers in a 4-poster bed when you haven’t even got to, never mind past, first base.

Over time I’ve since discovered The Orchids, Blueboy, Another Sunny Day, and The Sea Urchins to supplement my Field Mice listening. All the bands are characterised by light, airy production, breathy vocals, and heartfelt lyrics, and all are a joy to listen to. I randomly decided to write this article, and halfway through discovered that it coincided with a large amount of the Sarah back-catalogue being re-released – 14 Iced Bears had 2 re-issues done in 2001, The Field Mice albums were done in 2005, and Another Sunny Day and The Orchids came out last year. Blueboy are the next ones on the list, with their first album released last week and their second being re-released next month. Here’s to hoping The Sea Urchins are next. But be warned, get them while you can. The cult adoration of the label means that there is a high demand for CDs and the like - £15 for a used copy of a 14 Iced Bears album has proved in my experience to be a bargain if you didn’t catch it the first time round, and The Field Mice’s ‘For Keeps’ goes in and out of stock like the wind (I was fortunate to pick up a copy in Fopp for £13 new, but on Amazon it was going for £30+).

So then, in summary, why Sarah Records? I think I’m just a sucker for bloody good fey, intelligent indie-pop, truth be told. The fact I discovered great music for lovelorn 6th formers at the time of being a lovelorn 6th former probably helped, as does all the nostalgic aspects that come with it, but that wouldn’t be reason enough to continue liking their releases 5 years on (especially given the degree to which my musical taste has shifted over the last 5 years).

Sarah records closed in 1995 not through financial hardship, but because the owners wanted to guarantee an exemplary back-catalogue. With me being the contrary sod that I am, I probably love Sarah Records as much for this as I do for their music.

The Disposability Of Music & How I Learned To Love The Album Again

The music industry’s never-ending quest to provide more convenient media has, it can be argued, made music more disposable, more forgettable. Think about it. In the days of vinyl, you sat through a record all the way through. Partly, it must be said, due to the fact that changing the track (with all the faff of lifting the needle and putting it back down in the wrong place without scratching the surface of the LP) was such effort. It almost meant you had to buy the singles when they came out, and pray that your favourite songs off an album got released as a single.

The cassette tape, in commercial pre-recorded guise at least, as bad if not worse. How many of you wrecked your tapes by spending afternoons furiously fast-forwarding and rewinding them to hear favourite songs? I did, countless times. However, the advent of blank cassettes meant people could suddenly make mixtapes off their vinyl collections. Don’t want to sit through records to hear your favourite tracks? Easy! Make a personal greatest hits collection instead. When twin deck tape players and recorders came along you could even do it off your cassette collections. Winner. If you were really cheap (as I was at the turn of the millennium), you could spend Sunday afternoons listening to the top 40 and recording your favourite songs off that. Getting it just right so you didn’t get any talking at the start or end of the song, while not missing a note either, was an art form. I failed dismally. I ended up with as much of Marc Goodier’s voice on mine as I did the music. It could be argued that cassettes were really the start of the whole piracy issue that’s dogged the industry ever since, but that’s not an issue for here and now. Back to the history.

The CD was a godsend for the impatient music buyer and listener. You could skip tracks with the push of a button, and when CD burners came down in price you could make digital equivalents of mixtapes, or merely even burn the tracks you wanted onto your computer. It was the precursor to the current ‘pick ‘n’ mix’ culture that seems to be prevalent amongst the download only brigade.

The danger in all of this is between that and scan listening on streaming services such as Spotify is that it’s all to easy to live your life in shuffle mode. I know, I’ve been there. Now, I’m no downloader, so you might be wondering how this is so. Well, when my old CD player broke, I didn’t replace it because, as I reasoned, all I ever did was put it on the MP3 player and put the CD on the shelf and that was that. So I relied on Spotify, Windows Media Player (which I always cherry picked tracks on, never listening to full albums), and my MP3 player (which for reasons I don’t really understand, ALWAYS gets left on shuffle, unless I’m on a train). The concept of an album, therefore, appeared to be dead to me. Given my propensity for buying CD albums, this seemed a ridiculous situation. So, I finally got round to buying a new player. I then set aside 2 days to re-discover my love for the album, and got down to celebrating being able to listen to physical formats again.

I accept that maybe 18 albums was probably a bit much in such a short space of time. Cambridge University did research suggesting that the brain can only compute and engage fully in any one activity for an hour before it needs to be stimulated via other methods. This probably applied here too – towards the end of my ‘experiment’ I was pretty much waiting for albums to finish. However, it did open my eyes to the joys of listening to an album again. The way it lets you see the ideas and thoughts of an artist in that one period of time. The way that some albums are autobiographical, and let you see the artists’ mindset or experiences. Plus, with a physical format you can kick back and read the sleeve-notes and ogle the artwork while the album is playing. Sometimes this can be just as exciting as the record itself (see The Ramones’ Sire re-issues, or the Undertones or Echo & the Bunnymen equivalents for great examples of absorbing, enlightening sleevenotes). I also found that listening to full albums meant I could catch up with other things (mainly reading), which the constant stop/start of living on shuffle, and the constant track changing, rendered all but impossible in the past. I’ve also enjoyed the level of thought involved in deciding on an album to fit a particular mood or activity, rather than choosing a song or two to fit the moment and (metaphorically) sticking them on repeat.

Don’t get me wrong, though. This isn’t me preaching from some gargantuan ivory tower about the perils of listening to individual tracks or downloading or whatever else you could misjudge this piece to be about. Differences are to be celebrated, and if you prefer to listen to individual tracks over albums, then who am I to judge. This is really nothing more than a document of one man and his rediscovery of the concept of the album (and a rather verbose and highly edited history of how music has in my opinion become so disposable). Though I will say this: in the day where the album is increasingly being seen as an obsolete format, perhaps it’s time to give it a re-appraisal. Give it a whirl, you might enjoy the journey. I know I have.


During my ‘experiment’ I listened to:

Jamie T: Kings & Queens
The Clash: Give Them Enough Rope
Television Personalities: Don’t The Kids Just Love It
Camera Obscura: Let’s Get Out of This Country
Noah & The Whale: The First Days Of Spring
Billy Bragg: Life’s A Riot With Spy Vs Spy and Slow Club: Christmas Thanks For Nothing EP (As these were both mini albums each totalling under 15mins I classed them as one entry)
The Pains of Being Pure Of Heart: S/T
The Manhattan Love Suicides: S/T
The Undertones: S/T
The Jesus And Mary Chain: Darklands
Richard Hawley: Lady’s Bridge
REM: Reckoning
The Pogues: If I Should Fall From Grace With God
Beach House: Devotion
The Field Mice: Snowball
Eels: Hombre Lobo
The Vapors: New Clear Days
Bruce Springsteen: Nebraska