Father and Son: Tim Buckley, Jeff Buckley and Me

So, one of the things I remember about meeting people at university who weren't really into music was that they all absolutely fucking loved Jeff Buckley's version of Hallelujah. Even more so after it was on that episode of the O.C., you got all these geography students and trainee primary school teachers emoting to it whenever it came on wherever you were. If this were Rob's history in High Fidelity, essentially it's the new Baby I Love Your Way, or something.

That's a bit unfair on poor deceased Jeff, and I'll happily admit his version of Hallelujah is bloody good. It's ridiculously over-the-top on the melodrama, but when you've got a voice like that, you can pretty much get away with it. Besides which, if you've ever seen Leonard Cohen's performance of it on French-language TV, you'll wonder how Jeff pulled that much heartbreak out of it.

Nonetheless, I went through uni sporadically enjoying Jeff Buckley, especially Lover, You Should've Come Over and Grace, for what it's worth (always skipped Lilac Wine, obviously). And yeah, Grace is still a good album, for all that it's quite rightly criticised as being overindulgent it shows someone not afraid to show off their numerous musical talents, and while it's gained some extra fame (infamy?) since his death, I don't really think it's undeserved at all.

But one day I discovered Tim Buckley. Now, I knew Jeff had a vaguely famous Dad to some degree, but he was just one of those names to me at that some point – someone I'd heard of but never bothered to engage with. At that time, he'd sit alongside John Martyn, Richard Thompson, Neil Young...y'know, the sort of people who shouldn't be gaps in your, er, listening history. In any case, an opportunistic young me picked up a whole bunch of Tim Buckley CDs from someone on a messageboard (who I'd go on to have a feud of sort with) for next to nothing, just on impulse. And they're a mixed bunch. His last album, Look at the Fool, for instance, sounds like what it is, a man coming to the end of his tether both creatively and technically (his voice! His poor voice.)

So now I've badmouthed him, I'm going to build him up to high heaven. For those that don't know, Tim Buckley died in 1975 at the age 28 as a result of doing what can only be described as a large amount of heroin, having released nine albums. Yeah, nine! They really worked them hard in those days. His first album was only in 1966, and it's a self-titled, vaguely psychedelic, obviously Beatles-influenced poppy album. Considering he'd essentially go on first to be a folk-rock staple and then a slightly misguided step towards what was described as “sex funk”, the dude definitely knew a genre or two.

It's for his folk-rock and free-jazz stuff that he's best known. Starsailor – from his free-jazz leanings – is his most highly-regarded album, and yes, that is where there early 00s English yawn-core band got their name from, but my favourite is, of all things, a not-very-well-known live album from his folk-rock days, Dream Letter: Live in London.

It's a two disc affair, recorded at Buckley's first ever performance in England (or outside North America at all, really). It's a stripped back affair, with voice, guitar, vibes and bass, and he rattles through twenty songs (over 16 tracks) with that wonderfully soulful voice, sympathetically backed by his band; songs passing through 7 or 8 minutes sometimes without ever seeming like it. Supposedly – though I know this from Wiki-browsing – these performances, with more improvisation and less of a focus on being the “folk-rock poster boy” he apparently was, alienated audiences a bit. Well, more fool them, it's totally hypnotic. Phantasmagoria in Two gets a cheer, and deservedly so, though not until everyone recognises that “If a fiddler played you a song, my love” line. It's still a magical song, as is Morning Glory, a surprising song of anti-sentimentality, demonstrating perhaps a bit more than the simple declarations of love Buckley can be associated with.

On studio recordings, Tim Buckley's voice can seem a little over-produced. Add raspiness and remove the fake-gravitas from the album recording of Pleasant Street, and it's slightly menacing, but rich and honest in a live environment. The guy was what, 21 when he sang this live? 20 when he recorded it? Already with a heck of a body of work behind him and a strange knack for sounding mature in tone and deed? Christ. My highlight of the live album is Buzzin Fly, perhaps a simpler number, a more straightforward song, but Buckley's rich, pleading voice and rhythmic guitar drives the song along as the band flex their muscles. This is more of the traditional love song, but the slight jazz feel to it that belies the path he was taking gives it that extra dimension. Sure, at heart it's a folk-rock song, but it's about as good as folk-rock songs come. Elsewhere, check out the sparse, solo performance of The Earth if Broken, which is so quiet you're straining your ears but it's worth it.

It's his voice, isn't it? That honest sound to every syllable; that's the key that makes me really buy into Tim Buckley. His son's is a little too ostentatious, and maybe that's why I've always felt a little distant and excluded, it's someone showing off rather than consoling with you. Tim Buckley's voice is pretty much empathy and sympathy incarnate. This man, who released nine albums in nine years across a ridiculous array of genres, battled heroin addiction, and eventually drove himself to destruction. He was a fantastic writer of songs, and an addictive live performer from what little I've heard, but the way his voice just pings off the heartstrings...that's how music gets me.

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

Recommended by Ross: some albums to check out in 2011

So it seems I should mention some new stuff I’ve actually listened to this year. To be honest, it’s been difficult – having to drag myself away from putting on the KVELERTAK record for the millionth time is like deciding which limb I want to hack off. Anyway, so as not to pigeon-hole all my posts into “Iced Earth = LOL” and “Let’s listen to a punk rock album from 1997 that no-one cares about” here’s a selection of bands and albums that I’ve really enjoyed this year.

Absolute Power – Absolute Power

I really hope that the reason Absolute Power exist is because some of the band members witnessed another (not to be named) power metal band making complete dicks of themselves on stage. Featuring the really scary looking bassist from Napalm Death, Absolute Power are: swords smashing against wooden shields; lances splintering as they crash against bodies, dirt flying from the hooves of mighty steeds, horns raised high in the air – yes, battle metal, possibly the greatest music ever. Absolute Power completely kill it; they make me instinctively reach for 2D6; think about how many goblins I can afford in a 2,000 point army and whether I’ve washed recently (there’s even a song called ‘Standard Bearer’). It’s a clash of styles however; there are some fairly pop-rock moments, particularly ‘Secrets’, which is that strange mix of sugary, bouncing hooks, whilst still retains some mighty 80s-style metallic riffage and some wonderful harmonies. But then they’ll push the boat out with some truly over-the-top thrash excellence, sounding like Iron Maiden jamming with Judas Priest; with vocalist Simon Efemey slipping into BRIAN BLESSED mode. Hammy? You bet.

For something that sounds so cheesy, Absolute Power really do shred – changing from quick-tempo heavy metal onslaughts, through to glammy-80s soft rock, back to trashy battle metal frolicking and then into early Megadeth-thrash and Halford-style wailing lyrics, it’s some of the best classic metal and rock I’ve heard this year. Also, are you seriously considering not listening to a band that have the track titles ‘Full Metal Roar’, ‘Land Of Steel’ and ‘Faster Than The Speed Of Evil’? Come on!

Additional: the album art is nothing short of incredible.

Of Legends – Stranded

Luis Dubuc is a monster. I seriously wouldn’t believe someone if they told me this was the wimpy guy from The Secret Handshake – but it is and he’s angry. Of Legends are pretty metal, like nasty, Johnny Truant-style metal. The guitars on this record howl and I mean HOWL – they sound like they’re screaming in agony, such is the twisting, contorting shriek they emit. Dubuc himself is no shrinking wallflower – his bark is a rattled, shredded cry, mixes the talents of Jeffery Moreira and Matt Caughthran into one big ball of rage and bleeding fury. It’s fairly groove-orientated; when the guitars aren’t sounding like they’re being tortured, they’re cutting some quite shred-worthy lines. I suppose a similar artist would be Killswitch Engage – it has that same dense, bludgeoning attack on the senses, but retains an slick nu-metal tinged rut and enough hardcore experimentation so as not to pigeon hole. Actually, a lot of the sound on ‘Stranded’ reminds me of swamp-metal titans, Blacktusk – that same dirge of scraping sound, buried beneath a crusty bass hum and battering drum beats. Of Legends create this insane, barbaric noise, especially on ‘Cannibal King’, which is a stop start shudder of stabbing, taunt metal alongside some spazzy, mathcore styles. The kind of bile-spitting, contemporary metal I can get behind.

Zombi – Escape Velocity

This is probably my favourite album at the moment; I gave it 10/10 in a review I wrote for planet-loud few weeks back, so it must be something I really dig, right? ‘Escape Velocity’ is an absolute mind-bender of sound; like Adebisi Shank, I describe them as ‘future music’ mainly because, being someone who listens to three chords and beatdowns, hearing something outside of that spec is pretty damn revolutionary. There’s tons of build on this, most notably the title track that grows and mutates with such pulsating energy and tribal drum blasts. 'Slow Oscillations' is an almost Martin O'Donnell-worthy slice of bending, trippy atmosphere and being a fan of the Halo series and the music, this struck a particular chord with me. I said in my review that ‘DE3’ is one of the best songs I’d heard all year and I stand by this. Part elements of Justice mixed with Goblin, part experimental noise, part "let's make music: IN SPACE." something about it really gets to me. Maybe it’s the fact it sounds like an old trance song at half-speed; or maybe it's the key change around the 6 minute mark. ‘Escape Velocity’ buries the listener in loops though; layers upon layers of synthesised build and it makes me feel good. I can’t explain it, but Zombi really do make me feel like a better person and there are very few records that lift my spirits, but I'm happy to say that this is one of them. For something built around just drums and keys, it's an incredibly deep and mesmerizing body of work.

Snowing – I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted

I have no idea if emo is still a dirty word, but Snowing don’t seem to give a shit and nor should you. Formed from the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist, Snowing make me feel good; their music is rooted in mid-90s emo-rock, where guitars were held together with masking tape and were tappier than a room full of sinks and actually poured their heart and soul into their recordings, instead of dull, lifeless unit-shifting compositions. ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ is so bleeding-heart in all its pent-up earnest and frantic nature, it’s hard not to be warmed by it. The themes present revolve around drinking, loss, love and overall, just good times and that’s what Snowing want listeners to get from their music; a sense of connection, a sense of warmth and high-fiving each other in a packed mosh pit, in a venue that holds 50, but is full to 75, kissing your sweetheart and more importantly, getting drunk on Miller lite.

It’s scatter-brained, disorganised but a relatively short blast on intense rock music that has been created with that tender honestly and passion that a lot of acts who fit into a similar genre, fail to achieve and Snowing manage it with such ease and drunken cheer it’s hard not being impressed. Also, the album is available for free download from bandcamp; what’s not to love?

The Heat Tape – Raccoon Valley Recordings

The Heat Tape is Brett Hunter from The Copyrights (pop-punk done really, really good) and two other dudes, who have swapped out production values for the sound of a bunch of wasps in a biscuit tin, whilst someone plays a Marked Men record in the background. Yeah, it’s well garage – but garage punk done superbly. For one thing, while the unrelenting hiss of a furred-up tape recorder is consistently present, at least Hunter and Co. has bothered to write memorable and catchy songs to counter-act the fuzz. ‘Quotes From An Unopened Letter’ is a snotty ball of punk energy, reminiscent of Wavves, while ‘Spend It’ is dumb grunge rock apathy condensed into a minute and a half. Hunter’s lazy, almost bored vocals, sneer with despondence, regret and self deprecation for the duration of this 25 minute record and fit nicely with the deliberately scrappy production and early 90s recording values. ‘Idle Man’ sounds like and outtake from the first Thermals album (‘More Parts Per Million’) – a relentlessly sunny, yet jangled mess of smothering cymbal crashes and vibrant punk-pop bounce.

Weekend Nachos – Worthless

I genuinely thought this band were a complete pisstake. Maybe they are who knows? WEEKEND NACHOS – I just like saying it. The artwork seems to have been cribbed from the photo series ‘Great Waterfalls of Our Times’ or was perhaps supposed to be the next Explosions In The Sky album cover, and there was a mix up at the post office. Musically, it’s completely dumb-as-fuck punk rock, loaded with ten tons of aggression and venom-spitting fury, minus any melody, chorus or catchy bass lines.

There’s an air of a “don’t give a shit” attitude, which I like – it’s free of any snobbish airs or graces, Weekend Nachos are more content with burying the listener beneath filthy riff after filthy riff. Aggressive determination, plus rusty vocal barks, detuned-bass scrawls and some farily tight drumming (and blast beats) hold it all together. ‘The Meeting’ is a fairly guttural piece, relying on feedback and clanking guitar chugs, whilst the title track is a bottoming-out piece of sludge-metal intimidation. ‘Jock Powerviolence’ is rapid-fire drumbeats, with rap-metal taunts and this staggering metallic gait that doesn’t know whether it should be pure hardcore or not. In any case, if you’re looking for some machine-gun fire crust-hardcore, that mixes elements of punk, grind and sludge-metal then Weekend Nachos can do that in about 26 minutes or your money stuffed down your throat.

April Albums: The Conclusion

So, that's that then. 30 days, 100 albums, one 20-something with time on his hands and a near-obsessive fascination with listening habits and the way we consume music. Job done.


For those out of the loop, throughout April I made a conscious decision to take my life off the shuffle function which it had seemed to have regressed to, and go back to listen to albums as they were intended. No compilations, best ofs or EPs and wherever possible stay away from perennial favourites. This was to be no month long karaoke session. Oh no. So, now it's all over, what are my thoughts?

Firstly, my thoughts on my choices. A massive batch of newly purchased albums arriving just prior to my listening experience commencing skewed things a bit – not only were there a pile of albums waiting to be included that I'd be listening to for the first time, but owing to my 'one album per artist' rule, there'd be albums that I wouldn't actually get to listen to until a month later. Surreal times. I have to say that looking back over the list I'm pleased with the way things went. Obviously we can all sit there going 'damn! Why didn't I put that in there?' but on the whole it was a good mix between albums I haven't listened to in years (or even forgot I owned), recent discoveries, new records and albums from some of my favourite back catalogues that I'd always thought of as runts of the litter. As well as a voyage of (re)discovery the whole experience also gave some albums a second chance, rescuing them from a near certain fate of charity shop dust gathering. Did I walk away with some new favourites? Well yes actually, the main two that spring to mind being The Concretes' Concretes In Colour and Tokyo Police Club's Elephant Shell. But perhaps more importantly, a number of albums that I'd written off or had mixed views have, as a general rule, now left a far more favourable impression than they had previously.

Whereas Jack Stewart of Mercury Challenge fame was constrained by what he had to listen to, I – while having free choice of what to listen to – was limited by time and having to rack up 100 records. What this inadvertently meant was that there times when I'd be sat listening to an album and willing it to end not because it was bad, but because I wanted to get another on the go and keep to a mental schedule. While it'd be nice to boldly proclaim this didn't dilute the listening experience in any way, it's fanciful at best. I suppose the targets that I set myself, while being something to aim for, also proved a a distraction and it could be argued detracted slightly from the experience as a whole. If I were to do it again I might do it under more relaxed criteria and compare notes.

One aspect that I wasn't really expecting was the social element. Tweeting the albums as I listened to them (as much of a record of what I'd listened to/how many albums I'd chalked up as much as anything else) gave way to conversations about the merits of particular albums and how they compared with the rest of back catalogues. It was a real eye opener, and a demonstration of how unifying music and albums can be. A recent trip to Manchester saw me being asked about my listening experience by people who followed me but who I'd never really conversed with before. It was surreal. As was people offering to buy me their favourite albums to be included, such was their belief in them and desire to share said love (I was only listening to albums that I personally owned). Crazy days.

So the big question is: has it made me appreciate the concept of the album more? The answer is a resounding yes, incredible as it may seem. Two weeks on, and apart from my daily couple of walks where the mp3 player stays on shuffle for a bit of variety I've listened to nothing but full albums. Not only that, but if I have a free day can be found giving thought to what I'll be listening to throughout the day, just as I did during April Albums. I'm enjoying it. It's nice. I suppose the main thing I've learnt that is that the age old excuse of 'I haven't got time to listen to albums' is a load of rhubarb. With precious little effort 3 albums a day is easily achievable. I wish I could end this with a snappy punchline, but I can't. The best I can think of is: I'm glad I did it.

Over the course of April I listened to:

Beirut – Flying Club Cup

Felt – Strange Idols And Other Short Stories

Wild Beasts – Two Dancers

Razorcuts – The World Keeps Turning

Malcolm Middleton – Waxing Gibbous

Eels – Hombre Lobo

The Rakes – Klang

OMD – Organisation

Antlers – Hospice

Dum Dum Girls – I Will be

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart – Belong

The Wave Pictures – If You Leave It Behind

Pulp – This Is Hardcore

Bruce Springsteen – Born In The USA

Air – Moon Safari

The Lemonheads – It's A Shame About Ray

Television Personalities – Privilege

Tracey Thorne – A Distant Shore

Darren Hayman – Table For One

Camera Obscura – My Maudlin Career

The Indelicates – American Demo

The Knife – Silent Shout

The Ramones – S/T

Pete & The Pirates – Little Death

Those Dancing Days – Daydreams & Nightmares

Foals – Antidotes

The Kissaway Trail – Sleep Mountain

Orange Juice – You Can't Hide Your Love Forever

Edwyn Collins – Home Again

Beach House – Devotion

The Hold Steady – Heaven Is Whenever

The Undertones – The Sin Of Pride

Magazine – Murder, Magic and the Weather

Perfume Genius – Learning

The Lost Brothers – Trails Of The Lonely Part 1 + 3

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions – Rattlesnakes

Richard Hawley – Late Night Final

The Wedding Present – Bizzarro

New Order – Technique

Elvis Costello – This Year's Model

The National – High Violet

Arcade Fire – Funeral

Help Stamp Out Loneliness – S/T

Good Shoes – no Hope, No Future

Last Shadow Puppets – The Age Of The Understatement

LCD Soundsystem – Sound Of Silver

Doves – Lost Souls

Jeremy Warmsley – The Art Of Fiction

Joey Ramone – Don't Worry About Me

Elbow – Asleep In The Back

The Smiths – The Queen Is Dead

The Concretes – The Concretes In Colour

Art Brut – It's A Bit Complicated

Envelopes – Demon

The Brilliant Corners – Somebody Up There Likes Me

Radiohead – Hail To The Thief

Gaslight Anthem – American Slang

John Cooper-Clarke – Zip Style Method

Field Mice – Skywriting

REM – Reckoning

Girls – S/T

The Libertines – S/T

Young Knives – Voices of Animals and Men

The Cribs – The New Fellas

Albert Hammond Jr – For Keeps

David Bowie – Let's Dance

The Clash – Combat Rock

Los Campesinos! - Romance Is Boring

Dexy's Midnight Runners – Too Rya Aye

The Orchids – Striving For The Lazy Perfection

Christopher Eatough – A Creak in The Cold

Echo & The Bunnymen – Porcupine

Hefner – The Fidelity Wars

The Magnetic Fields – Get Lost

James Yorkston – When The Haar Rolls In

The Drums – S/T

Jim Noir – Tower Of Love

Belle & Sebastian – The Life Pursuit

Goodbooks – Control

Kubb – Mother

Noah & The Whale – The First Days Of Spring

The Jam – This Is The Modern World

The Vapors – New Clear Days

The Replacements – Tim

MJ Hibbett & The Validators – We Validate!

Brian Eno – Apollo

Tokyo Police Club – Elephant Shell

The Cars – S/T

The Modern Lovers – S/T

Cold War Kids – Robbers & Cowards

Suede – Head Music – Blur – 13

M83 – Saturdays = Youth

Neutral Milk Hotel – Aeroplane Over The Sea

All Darlin' - S/T

Guest Blog: Jack Stewart's Mercury Challenge

Boredom is a terrible thing, and can so often drive people to do things they regret. For Jack Stewart of the wonderful Just Like TV blog, it meant the opportunity to listen to every album (available on Spotify) ever nominated for the Mercury Music Prize. Despite this harrowing experience, he was happy to offer Tones of Town a few thoughts on the experience:

Late last month I had another one of my ideas. I always have 'ideas'. You know the sort. They seem good at the time but once you put them into action you know you've made a huge mistake, but you're too stubborn to give in once you've started.

Thinking that it would be 'a bit of fun' and 'a laugh', I decided to listen to every Mercury Music Prize nominated album. Well, the ones that were available on Spotify anyway, which turned out to be around 60%.

The Mercury ceremony has always entertained me over the years. I like that there is recognition out there for great British albums and it's certainly given a lot of smaller acts a well-needed boost into the mainstream in the time that it's been running.

The merits of the winners have been well-documented so I won't cover old ground, but I thought I'd let you know the full extent of the torture that I went through, just in case anyone was thinking of making the same mistake.

First off, no, I didn't really discover any gems hidden in the Mercury collection. That's not to say that there aren't any, no. The majority of the greatest British albums since 1992 have been included in the shortlists, from Dummy, OK Computer and Parklife in the early years to the sounds of Asleep In The Back, In Rainbows and XX this decade.

My personal musical journey owes a lot to the Prize. My dad unearthed many classics because of it whilst I was still forming my tastes, and then passed them on once I became interested in music. Helicopter Girl, Goldfrapp, Tricky, The Delgados and Doves were all passed down purely because of the increased press and recognition that the nominations gave each artist.

There's a few albums that I listened to during what I dubbed the 'Mercury Challenge' which I will re-visit, but not many. On a first listen The Auteurs, Villagers, Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell all sounded like they had something else to offer.

As much as it was nice to listen to some classic albums, the Mercury Challenge was mostly a thankless task. Sting, M People, Spice Girls, Roni Size, Robbie Williams, Stereophonics and Richard Ashcroft all took the wind out of my sails, and that's just the first eight years. Some of the later shortlists were horrific. 2004 and 2005 in particular- the Keane/Snow Patrol/Joss Stone/The Streets/Ty/Amy Winehouse run in 2004 did not please me, and the Hard-Fi/Kaiser Chiefs double header in 2005 would be enough to destroy a lesser man.

But no. I, Jack Stewart, bravely battled on in the face of adversity. I took it all in my stride (well, aside from the odd despairing tweet) and I am proud to state that I completed my challenge last week.

They say whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That's not true. I am scarred, I am bruised, I am weak and I am tired. But none of that matters, because I completed an entirely arbitrary challenge that I set myself, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

For my next test I will listen to every track on every Now That's What I Call Music compilation. I'm a sucker for punishment.

Top Mercury Challenge tweets from Jack:

"I am officially listening to Stars by Simply Red. Two minutes in and the saxophones have started. Kill me."

"Two tracks into the Barry Adamson album and I've already heard 'negro' and 'gaping hole'."

"If you'd like to hear the worst song ever recorded, I'd suggest you look up Sting's 'Love is Stronger Than Justice'."

"Wrapping up 1997 with 'Spice'. Hold me."

"Pretty sure I'm listening to Robbie Williams singing about Charlie Sheen #losing"

"MJ Cole- Sincere. I sincerely think this album is a sub-Artful Dodger piece of shit."

"Hard-Fi. Remember them? No, me neither."

"Christ on a bike. It's another Dizzee Rascal album next. Not sure I'm strong enough to do this."

"Mumford & Sons are so shit it genuinely makes me angry. GET YOUR BANJO AND FUCK OFF, RUPERT."

"This is the kind of thing people do for charity, isn't it. Not something that people do just for the hell of it."

April Albums: The Bloodening

So, welcome to the halfway mark of April Albums, the listening experience that sees a 20-something with far too much time on his hands take his life off shuffle and tries to spend the month listening to nothing but full albums. At least 100 of them in fact.


How are we* (*I) doing then? Well, 14 days have passed, and we're 50 albums down (51 is playing in the background as I type this). If that's not sticking to schedule, then I don't know what is. My listening patterns have varied from 3-4 a day when I've been working, and up to 7 or so when not. The morning shift at work means I have a clear block of listening time from lunchtime onwards, which has worked out really nicely. The afternoon shift less so. The 2pm starts have meant getting up early, and getting 2-3 done before work, and having just enough time when I get in for one more between dinner and bed. In a way it's quite weird how such a whimsical project has altered my daily schedules.

Believe it or not, there are even a set of rules to go with the project. They are as follows:

One album per artist (this is proving something of a headache when I have two albums I've not heard in ages that I want to put on and have to choose between them)

No E.P.s (there was an attempt at making some kind of formula to equate a number of E.P.s to a full album depending on time/number of tracks. But it became laughably laborious pretty damn fast so I gave up)

No compilations either of the various artists variety nor the single artist best ofs/collections kind.

If an album is an expanded format, I will only listen to the original album (this originally started off as an exercise in hearing an album as it was originally intended, but has since become more a matter of time management. Don't say I'm anything but honest)

50 albums in 14 days makes it sound like all is going swimmingly. That's not strictly true. For one, one of my prime listening opportunities – a train journey to Manchester and back – saw my mp3 player lunch itself. The ensuing fallout, purchase of a new one, and filling it all back up (an ongoing process) put me back a fair amount. Only a late listening charge on Tuesday saved it. Some dodgy work shifts (8pm finish one night, then 5am start the next morning anyone?), and breaking off to listen to/write up review albums all contributed to some days where it all looked a bit iffy to say the least. But hey, we're here so all is well.

The main thing I'm experiencing at the moment is guilt. It's rare for me to listen to an album while not doing something else at the same time. While it's sad, it's also impractical to expect anything else. If that were to happen the whole of April would see me achieve nothing else except go to work and listen to albums. It'd be great if I could afford such luxuries but life admin and the like sadly have to have a space made for them. That said, while I'm not necessarily 'connecting' with albums in the purest sense of the concept, I'm at least actually listening to many for the first time in years, and forming opinions and judgements about them. I'm still experiencing them, just not perhaps in the puritanical lights off, eyes closed, everything turned off manner that the newly-fashionable record clubs have banged on about.

The more I think about it, the more I probably should've made greater headway in the last couple of weeks. At somepoint in the next couple of weeks the house is being reglazed (not sure when, just waiting for the army of workmen descending on the place at any given moment) so that could (and probably will) jeopardise proceedings a bit. But I'm not here to make excuses. One way or another each obstacle will be overcome, even if it means me going on walks with a discman or something equally demeaning.

What's actually surprising, having gone through the vaults* (*plastic crates) is how many of my favourite artists I've not yet played a record by. There's not been any Clash, Hefner, or David Bowie in the mix so far to name but three. This is pleasing as it means I haven't gone and played all the good stuff at the start and been left with the insufferable shit at the end which in turn harms my motivation. There's still a lot of great stuff still to explore. Happy days.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to go and make some more headway. Before you ask, no I don't know what I'm going to play to send off the whole experience. Or if I'm going to stop at album 100 if I arrive there before the end of the month or just keep going until the 30th.

Update: In the space of time it's taken me to write this I'm now almost up to album 70. I'm not sure if this says more about my album listening work ethic the past couple of days or my insanely good procrastination skills.

The World's Most Cultured Lobotomy; and a Los Angeles hire car

I'm always amazed at people who have this seemingly endless appetite for new music. Once upon a time I'd have probably doubted it possible to really appreciate music that way, but we can put that one down to the “oh, no-one can possibly appreciate music differently to the way I do” youthfulness. Arrogance, basically. Nonetheless, as I get older I listen to less music, and I listen to music less. Gone are the days of 400 last.fm scrobbles a week, now if I tip 100 I'm doing well. And that's without an mp3 player, too (I have an mp3 player, I just have no headphones and keep forgetting to buy them, being a lazy bugger in the evenings when I could be looking).

In any case, I generally struggle to synthesise too much new music. It's like modern art, in a way. Wandering around the Tate Modern's a pretty powerful experience, as the sheer variety and vivacity of the art combines with the fact you're generally looking when the place is really busy. The whole thing's awe-inspiring on one level, but it's more than a little asphyxiative, too. You wander out thinking “that was cool, but thank FUCK I'm out of there”, and go amble along the South Bank in the hope of getting your synaptic functions back. It's like the world's most cultured lobotomy.

And too much new music can have the same effect – I don't necessarily mean stuff that's recently released, trawling through a whole heap of 70s stuff would probably have the same effect. Especially if I took leave of my senses and stuck Tales from the Topographic Ocean on. But I guess everyone has a tolerance level for music, and I'm quite happy listening to a couple of albums a day. It does mean I'm listening to less stuff for the first time, and that might not be a good thing, but I'm not ready to crank out the Ellie Goulding and live on a coffee table forever more yet.

Anyway, to take a post tangentially in a different direction, I'm going to say a bit about a couple of discoveries I have made while tentatively dipping my toe in the ocean of Spotify. Spotify's an interesting matter, but with rumours today suggesting that free use of it could be capped in the not-too-distant future, I'm making hay while the sun shines and catching up on stuff I've been meaning to listen to for roughly 4 years.

First up is Clem Snide's “The Ghost of Fashion”. God knows how I first heard their 2005 album “End of Love”, but it's one of my all-time favourites, the world-weariness and general resigned feeling play out alternately with despair and the grudging acceptance that hey, the future might not be what you wanted but it's alright. It's wonderful, and I'd not heard any Clem Snide that matched it. But I'd never heard The Ghost of Fashion, which keeps up the themes to a similar standard. As a recent discovery I've not listened to it much, but it's one of those oh-so-they-did-do-something-else-good moments of relief.

The main one I wanted to enthuse about is Shack's “Waterpistol”. It's one of the all-time great 'lost' albums, mainly because it was. Originally, post-completion, all but one of the master DAT tapes were lost when the studio they'd recorded the album in burnt down. Then, the album's producer lost the last remaining master tape in a Los Angeles hire car. It turned up, but then the label folder. This was all in 1991. The album wasn't released until a tiny German independent label stepped in, in 1995. The story's regurgitated often and every sod seems to have heard it, but it's absolutely unfortunate.

And a terrible shame, because bugger-all people have heard Waterpistol (even compared to later albums HMS Fable and Here's Tom With The Weather) yet it's fantastic. It's jangly guitar music in the Liverpudlian tradition – Shack were pretty closely subsequent to The La's, for instance, and lead songwriter Mick Head's got a hell of a knack for melody, if slightly less so on how to construct a song. I'd recommend Sgt. Major, Neighbours and Walter's Song as tracks to listen to, but go stick the entire of Waterpistol on your Spotify while it's free. It's a wonderful, major-key, upbeat but not remotely saccharine. I can't recommend it enough.

Here endeth the ramble.