Tweet Tweet, Tweet Tweet, Yeah!

Twitter is a right pain in the arse. Here I was, all geared up to make this blog the premier vent for my all my hot air, when along comes something that’s even more convenient to use than the Spar at the end of my road (but without the exorbitant pricing or gangs of pissed teenagers hanging around outside). I’m now going to share my thoughts on Twitter as a lame attempt to get back into the blogging equivalent of doing a proper weekly shop – I’ve found myself nipping down the road for a wallet-bothering pack of beer far too often of late.

...so dear, so Spar

I remember investigating Twitter quite a while ago after reading some article or other in the paper. I’d concluded it was far too geeky for me, what with the strange conventions, odd slang (in the main, “twitter” merged with normal words to form really twatty portmanteaus, or “twortmanteaus”, if you will), and the fact you were expected to follow that wanker Jonathan Ross – it all seemed a bit too much of a concerted effort; too contrived for a grumpy bastard like me.

So why on earth did I join up then? Curiosity, mainly, but probably also down to the fact I’m usually an early adopter as far as the internet goes. I like to get in on these fads early - mainly so I can sound all smug down the pub when everybody else is talking about them some time later. I only knew one person who already used Twitter, much like I only knew one person who used Facebook, Myspace and Audioscrobbler (now last.fm) when I joined those, so I thought I’d best see what all the fuss was about before all the mere mortals cottoned on. Did I mention I remember The Stone Roses when they were a goth band?

So what’s in Twitter for the casual grumpy bastard? Where does one start – I’ve discovered the whole thing is the perfect platform for the endless moaner. As long as you’ve got a connection to the web and a compatible device, you can vent your spleen in the knowledge other grumpy bastards will read what you’ve written and nod their heads in agreement. You’ll never really know if they do, but presuming is good enough sometimes. It’s not a proper replacement for being able to burden your loved ones with your miserablist opinions, but in the absence of that, it acts as a handy punch bag.

The fact your tweets are limited by the number of characters is a stroke of genius. I’ve always been a firm believer that in some cases, a shackle can focus ones creativity more effectively than complete freedom, like taking photos in monochrome, or writing in haikus, for example. The character limit in Twitter has a similar effect - sing 140 characters to effectively convey what would normally take 1400 is a art form, and one that is worth adopting. Maybe I haven’t mastered it sufficiently, looking at the length of what was meant to be a quick post here.

The oddest feature of Twitter to me is the sheer volume of people who don’t see the appeal. The rate of attrition is startling, even amongst my friends. I compare it to growing a beard - my friend has never grown a beard, because they can’t be doing with the constant itching. A new beard will itch, but after a while, it stops – you just have to get over that itchy period. Twitter is the same – once the itchy period is over, it all makes sense. You need people following you, and unfortunately that takes work. It’s amazing how much you’re more inclined to tweet when you know there are people reading it.

So how do you get people following you? Don’t be too narcissistic, at least not at first. Apart from your friends, people aren’t really interested in what you’re having for lunch. State your opinion on things other people are interested in. People search for topics on Twitter, and seeing your insightful or amusing opinion will make them check out your stream. If they like the cut of your jib, they’ll start following you; they may even reply to your tweet. Try it yourself – see what catches your eye, that’ll give you a good idea of how it works. When something does, follow that person, reply to their tweets, check out the streams of their other followers and the people they follow.

Once you have a posse of people to follow, and a posse of people to follow you, it’ll all start to fall into place. The itchy period will have ceased, and you’ll be tweeting like a bearded tit (the bird, not Russell Brand). My friend is going to try the beard thing again, and this time she’s not going to wimp out at the itching stage!

A bearded tit

I’m off now to write about some records I’ve been listening to and some bands I’ve seen. After I’ve checked Twitter, natch…

Live - The Wedding Present

The Wedding Present
Central Station Wrexham
Wednesday 4th March 2009

I’d never heard of The Wedding Present before I saw them perform Brassneck on Top Of The Pops. Maybe that’s why their early work doesn’t seem to really do anything for me. I’ve never really seen the appeal of 95% of their material before Bizarro. I know that’s verging on sacrilege to “real” Weddoes fans, but that’s the way I’ve always felt. George who? My Favourite what? Maybe if I was a few years older, I would get it.

When David Gedge decided to resurrect The Wedding Present in 2005, I was as excited as Fern Britton in a cake shop. I managed to get myself to three dates on the tour, but it all ended up a bit of a disappointment. Their comeback long player Take Fountain hadn’t really set my ears alight, and the three gigs seemed to be carbon copy performances of songs I didn’t really like, even down to the seemingly adlibbed quips between them. It’s fair to say I’d completely lost interest in The Wedding Present.

I wasn’t expecting much from their performance in Wrexham’s Central Station, but thought I’d show willing anyway. The sight of somebody as legendary as Mr. Gedge selling his own t-shirts was a bit surreal at first, but I quickly realised that this would be what music journalists would call a “low key gig”.

Kicking off with Kennedy was a surprise, but as a call to arms, it’s hard to fault. Possibly their most well known song, and a copper bottomed indie disco classic, it seemed to prick the ears of the floating voters in the venue. I often wonder if seasoned performers have different tactics for different venues and crowds, like some wizened old lower league football manager. If they do, Gedge called this one spot on.

The set list seemed more poppy and upbeat then I was expecting. I don’t recall witnessing much off The Hit Parade performed live before, so hearing Blue Eyes and Come Play With Me was a treat, as they’re possibly my two favourite Weddoes tracks. Gedge seemed to be enjoying himself - he was grasping each song with an enthusiasm that belied the countless times he’d probably had to trot them out over the years. Dalliance sounded more like some brand new killer single than a crowd favourite that was older than the bar staff. In fact the whole band’s verve and vigour seemed to fit the reasonably snug environs well. Tight enough where it mattered, but loose enough to add a warm glow around the songs. I think my interest has possibly been revived. I still don’t like My Favourite Dress though!

Live - Asobi Seksu

Asobi Seksu
ABC2 Glasgow
Saturday 14th February 2009


Yeah yeah, I remember Asobi Seksu when they were a goth band, obviously. Although between you and me, I only acquired their two albums last summer, thanks to a random shoegaze tip-off. I can't say I get random shoegaze tip-offs often, but in hindsight, we were in the pub waiting for it to be fashionably late enough to strut around to a My Bloody Valentine gig. If ever you were going to get a random shoegaze tip-off, you'd like to think it was going to be then.

I've been deeply ensconced in their second album, Citrus, ever since. I was gutted that "logistical challenges" meant I could only catch the arse-end of their Ladytron support set just before Christmas. It was the most amazing arse-end I’ve ever had the good fortune to hear, so I was looking forward to this - I would have been banging on the door waiting for the place to open, if I hadn’t had gone for a quick pint or three earlier in the evening. Damn this fashionable lateness!

The band shuffled onstage with an almost alarming lack of ceremony, collected their thoughts, and ploughed headlong into Sing Tomorrow's Praise, from the forthcoming album Hush. In next to no time, it was apparent all was not well - Yuki Chikudate, Asobi Seksu's achingly cool focal point held the front of the stage with reassuringly aching coolness, but whatever was coming out of her mouth was lost amongst the onslaught of the band's particular translation of the Shoegazing Handbook. Soon after, the PA decided to develop a bout of flatulence, which ever so slightly took away from the beauty of what they were trying to craft in front of us. Yuki's vocals seemed to return for Strawberries, but then they were gone again by the next song, and so it went on until Pink Cloud Tracing Paper near the end of the set.

I say slightly took away, for if you squinted your ears slightly as to blur the distractions, you could hear how magical Asobi Seksu were. There's an aural assault which is slightly reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine, but it’s less about grooves and volume, more about "proper" songs (as my dad would call them) played with ferocious zeal. The real tragedy in losing Yuki's vocals in the mix is not the forfeiture of any lyrical content - the lyrics are largely unintelligible anyway - but the loss of the most distinctive and melodious instrument the band possess. Her angelic tones are a joy, and a perfect foil for the high octane backline. If there’s one downside to their proficiency live, it’s that it makes their recorded material seem slightly overproduced. Which is isn’t, I’m just trying to find a negative needle in a stack of positive hay. It’s a thankless task with Asobi Seksu.

Asobi Seksu on MySpace

6x7 2:Beck - Chemtrails

I've always had a bit of a funny relationship with Beck. Not him personally, I hardly know the lad - it's his music. My earliest memory of him is when he appeared on Top Of The Pops performing his first hit Loser, with a backing band of old aged pensioners. I was really taken aback by this, but I didn't bother buying the single for some unknown reason, never mind the album, Odelay. I'd bought myself some specialist music-snob headphones in the mid 1990s, which blocked out all music that didn't wear a Fred Perry polo shirt and desert boots (I blame the video for Blur's Chemical World personally), so it took me until hearing The New Pollution at Liquidation in Liverpool to realise Beck was a complete genius. I still wasn't moved enough to actually hand over any pretty green for his recorded material though. Even as late as last year, although you could have played me Tropicalia and I'd be transported back to late 1998; Sexx Laws and I'd party like it was 1999 - I'd be no closer to owning one of his albums than I would be owning a U2 album, And I definitely wouldn't have classed myself as a Beck fan.

Chemtrails stopped me in my tracks. It's so wonderfully dark and intense for what is essentially a pop song, switching with ease between sparse verses and throbbing choruses, all wrapped up with an ethereal production which gives it an almost chilling quality. I was so impressed; I bought the album, probably due to being momentarily possessed by the ghost of Victor Kiam. Modern Guilt is a fantastic album too, in a mangled-collection-of-disparate-entities kind of way. Sometimes albums are just better like that, it's like listening to a compilation tape. I'm going to start getting the rest of his albums soon. I'm a Beck fan, after all.

I can't find an official promo video for the song, so here it is with some pretentious guff over the top...

6x7 1:Pete & The Pirates - Mr. Understanding

Writing about what BBC 6Music turned me on to in 2008 proved a bit more of a herculean task than I’d first envisaged. Being a firm believer of "less, but more often", I’m going to post them a song at a time, before the internet becomes obsolete. As there is seven of them, and I discovered them all on BBC 6Music, I'm going to call this thread 6x7. First up, it's Pete & The Pirates...

In the past year I have listened to this song more than any other, but I still don't know why. This time last year I had this song on repeat in the car pretty much every morning on the way to work, belting out the lyrics at the top of my voice, and I'm still listening to it quite a bit now. It's probably because it reminds me of halcyon days, what with the cod-Supergrass Britpop stylings - something which seems decidedly out of fashion these days. That and the fact it is bass led, which is something I always appreciate (unless Sting's involved). I always think it's hard to dominate this type of song with the bass unless the bass player is being a virtuoso twat who hasn't heard of the phrase "less is more". It's all quite simple in Mr. Understanding, but very, very effective.

I've had the album for months, but only started getting into it since just before Christmas. At first I thought it was a load of old cock, being cod-Supergrass and all. But following a subconscious listen round my friend's house one night, helped by some rather nice Rioja, I found the melodies of several songs getting lodged in my brain and causing me to wake up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion the following week. Now, after dozens of listens, I'm more than converted. Knots has become my theme for February 2009, like Mr. Understanding was for February 2008, and at that rate, I should be okay for February themes well into my forties. I only wish I'd gone to see them when I got offered some tickets last year. What a pisser...

Digital Love

This writing a blog malarkey is a bit tougher than I first thought. I thought it would be easy to fire off a few paragraphs of guff at regular and frequent intervals, but the fact is when I know people are actually looking at it, I’ve got the blogging equivalent of "shy willy". I think the problem is that I have loads of things I want to write about, but I’m not really confident that my writing skills would do them justice. So, after countless aborted starts, I’ve decided to put them all on the back burner whist I think of less challenging stuff to write about. Right, let me see how this goes...

In 2008 I acquired more current music than I have done in a long time. I had been stuck in a musical time warp for an age. Sure, the occasional song or artist would tickle my aural taste buds, but not as often as I’d like. The problem is exposure - where on earth do you go to get into new music? I realise this probably sounds like a ridiculous question to the more well-rounded individuals that may read this, but I am not a well-rounded individual. Let me explain...

It’s never a good thing to be a snob. I’m not proud of being one, but I am. My name is Jones The Ears, and I am a music snob. Admitting that is possibly the first step on the road to redemption, but I’m not really phoning for a cab to take me any further as yet (I’d walk, but I’m really lazy too). As a result of this, when it comes to music, I only take recommendations off three or four people I know whose musical taste is to a large degree similar to mine. Unfortunately I don’t really see any of them that often these days, so the recommendations I do receive usually end up with the artist going on some subconscious black list, and the CDRs they have thoughtfully burned me end up with the underside of a mug outlined on them in dried PG Tips.

"Do you know Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa by Vampire Weekend?"
"Do I fuck!"

In the olden days it was easy. You could submerge yourself in the indie media without its trendy young things driving you to distraction, as you were a trendy young thing too. (at least in your own mind). These days, anybody young and trendy is automatically a twat, so it kind of puts you off the whole shebang.

I realise you could get Geoffrey Palmer to read that previous paragraph and use it as a voiceover to "Grumpy Old Men", but I’ll counter any notion that I might wear chinos by stating that I have serious issues with Radio 2 (bar Radcliffe and Maconie), and I still think there is too much "world music" on Jools Holland.

So I was lost in the relative darkness, not knowing where to turn for my new kicks. That was until late 2007. when I was forced to get a DAB radio by Chris Moyles and Terry Wogan. Just over a year on, and I’m a devout follower at the church of BBC 6Music. I’ve not enjoyed waking up in the morning so much since Mark & Lard did the breakfast slot on Radio 1. At least not in an empty bed!

The thing with 6Music is I get the feeling that most of the DJs on there are looking at my last.fm profile whilst compiling their playlists. It’s as if they’re sitting there mixing up my favourite stuff with stuff that they think I might like. It makes the new stuff easier to swallow, and also makes it all sound very personal. I can’t say I listen to it all day every day, but Keaveny, Metaxas, Lamacq and Riley do a cracking job of keeping me entertained and broadening my musical scope at the same time, proving that those tasks aren’t mutually exclusive. And they manage to do so without even slightly irritating me with their egos.

It’s not a perfect radio station by any means - there are a couple of things that really wind me up. I manage to avoid the biggest fly in the ointment as I’m usually at work when George "Shabba" Lamb decides to spend a few hours talking about himself (pot, kettle...), and if I happen to be in the car on my way to a meeting, I always have the Ipod to fall back on (not literally, you know how fragile they are). I’m possibly going to write a post about Mr. Lamb in the future, so I’m going to keep my powder dry for now.

The other offender-in-chief is Coldplay. I’m not going to sit here and slag off Coldplay, for that really is the first level of "Fish, Barrel, Gun" on the Atari 2600, but surely Coldplay don’t really appeal to people who really really like music, do they? I know music is subjective and personal, but in this case there should be a UN mandate stating that they really are a load of common denominator wank, and no back answers! Nobody who loves music and knows what they’re talking about (like me) would give them the time of day, surely. Yet they seem to be all over 6Music like some kind of smug, whiney, middle-class rash. Are RAJAR figures really that important Mr. Six-Music?

Anyhow, dodging these major irritants, I find 6Music is a wonderful tool for uncovering new music the way God intended - by listening to it. I can hear something, not knowing what it is, and have a cerebral reaction to it. No pre-formed judgements about the artist - if I like something it’s because I’ve picked up on some quality that track possesses. I like that feeling. It gives me faith in my brain’s ability to pick out a good tune, regardless of who has made it. For that reason, I still haven’t come across an Arctic Monkeys track I like.

I’m hoping that kind of explains why I don’t really take recommendations off people. It’s the discovery of something on my own which is part of the appeal. Whether that’s merely so I can recommend it to other people in a smug "I remember them when they were a goth band" kind of way, is probably open to debate. I prefer to think of it more as a small epiphany. Suppose it depends how insecure you think I am. Anyway, I’m going to think about what 6Music has helped me discover last year, and make that my next post. Gimme a few weeks, I need to sort out a jig about Keeling House by Denys Lasdun first!

Mantra For A State Of Mind

To be honest, I’m a bit embarrassed by that first post of mine. I’ve been meaning to write a blog for years, and every time I sit down in earnest to get cracking with it, I fall down at the first hurdle – what to put in the first post. Anyway, it’s done now, so it can stay there, otherwise it’s back to square one. I’ve come up with a better idea – I’m going to hammer this blog with loads of posts early on, in an effort to dilute the first post’s effect. This might be tied in with the excitement I’ve got with having a new found creative outlet, which will probably cease once the novelty has worn off. Either way, one shall maketh hay whilst the sun shineth.

My friend posted a link on Facebook the other day to some My Bloody Valentine tickets that were on sale. For the uninitiated, MBV (as I will refer to them as from now on, to save wear-and-tear on my keyboard) reunited last year to play their first gigs since the days of rationing. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really cool enough to be into them first time around – they were a bit too “advanced level shoegazing” for one as new to alternative music as myself, although I was quite taken with Swallow when I saw it on The Chart Show. It took me years to get into them, by which time MBV had long called it quits.

You can imagine my excitement when I found out at the beginning of 2008 that MBV were back with some gigs in that summer, although this was tempered by (a) the tickets being a bit pricey, and (b) me not having a job at the time. However, the wonders of an unnamed internet auction site meant we were eventually able to pick up some tickets nearer the time. I’m really glad we did, as it was the best gig I’ve been to for some considerable time (and I go to a lot of gigs, so that’s high praise indeed). I stood rooted to the spot from the opening of I Only Said to the end of the fabled “Holocaust” (Google MBV + holocaust for an explanation) – no earplugs, no flinching, no distractions.

My Bloody Valentine: Really are quite good

The Facebook link tuned out to be for the Primavera Sound festival in Barcelona this summer - MBV are playing, as are Spiritualized. If my ears could salivate, I would be walking around with very wet shoulders. Although I’ve seen Spiritualized quite a few times, I’ve never massively been into their recorded output. Their live shows, however, are always something to behold – I remember being literally blown away the first time I caught them at the Buckley Tivoli in the early 1990s. I also remember having to “go and get some fresh air” after about 10 minutes of their gig in Leeds University in 1997 - an afternoon spent doing some “home baking” at my friend’s student house on Burley Road turned out to not be such a good idea after all, but that’s another story.

MBV did to me exactly what I thought Spiritualized were the only band capable of doing, and that is making me feel like I’m completely out of my tree simply by the power of their live show. They both seem to offer an aural assault which, when combined with a hypnotic visual package, leaves me trying to scrape my brains off the ceiling of the venue. That’s why the home baking was such a bad idea - my brains were already up there, and Jason Pierce went and blew them through the ceiling into the night sky, meaning I could hardly stay vertical.

Jason Spaceman: Knocked my head out into the Leeds night sky

It was nice to have that feeling again last summer, as I’ve “wound my neck in” a little over the past few years. I no longer have the unquenchable thirst for narcotics that I displayed as a younger man, which is no bad thing really. Getting older I’d noticed the come downs got longer as the embarrassment factor got higher, so I knocked it all on the head. I still like getting pissed, but that’s about it really. I’m not saying that’s it forever, but it is for now. So being taken to a higher plane by some kick arse live music was a welcome surprise.

This Primavera Sound thing is sounding very tempting indeed. I’m hoping to God there are some tickets left by the time I get paid, which is in eleven days, not that I’m counting or anything. Then all I have to do is convince some other people it’s a viable alternative to a British festival. After last year’s round of mudbaths, I’m figuring that won’t be too difficult. Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be floating in Spain!

Security of the First Words

I have verbal diarrhoea. Whether spoken or typed, I really cannot shut up. It probably terrifies people, or at the very least, bores them to tears. I’d like to think that there are some nuggets of wisdom amongst the tonnes of dirt that people have to sift through when indulging in a conversation with me, but I suppose that’s completely subjective. Either way, I carry on regardless.

I’m beginning to think this might be losing me friends, so I thought I’d start looking for an alternative outlet for all this crap that seems to float around in my head morning, noon, and especially, night. Considering I’ve been online since 1997 (initially very sporadically, pretty much constantly since the summer of 1998, when the company I worked for at the time magically gave my PC internet access), I’m surprised I’ve never written a blog before. So here it is – World Of Quicksand – think Land Of Leather, only without the constant sale, without the interest free credit, and for that matter, without the leather!!!

Land of Leather: Probably a sale on, but they don't sell quicksand

At this early stage, I am planning on writing chiefly about music. I know Elvis Costello once said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture…” and I’d be inclined to agree with him, but I’ll hopefully be writing about my experiences with music rather than the music itself. Hopefully somebody will find a modicum of interest in this, and somebody might even find it mildly amusing. If not, I would ask you to bear with me – I hate to quote D:Ream, but “You’re the best thing, I’ve ever had…” Hang on; wrong D:Ream song – I would ask you to bear with me, because as D:Ream sang, “Things, can only get better!”. Don’t expect me to start dancing around in a tartan suit though! Not even about architecture!

The “confessions of an ageing indie kid” thing – that probably needs elaborating upon a little. I am in my 30s, and celebrating 21 years since I first had an inkling for music that was a bit “left of centre”. I should probably start from the beginning, as by way of an introduction to me, seeing as this is my first post and all that. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin…

I was late getting into music – my parents weren’t really into it in a big way, although my earliest memories are being sat down to Manhattan Transfer’s "Chanson D'Amour" and Father Abraham’s “The Smurf Song”, which must mean that they detected an involuntary reaction to melody in the toddler version of me. Strangely, I can also remember Ian Dury and The Blockheads “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick” and Sparks’ “This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us”, but that must have been a result of being plonked in front of the radio whilst my mum did the housework - I can't see either of them going out and buying stuff like that, not when there was stuff like Boney M to buy!

Manhattan Transfer: "...rat-de-tat-de-tat!!!"

The first record I bought, or rather badgered my mum into buying me from Woolworth’s, was “Prince Charming” by Adam & The Ants. I loved Adam Ant, which probably worried my old man no end, but at that age I also loved Worzel Gummidge. I was as likely to end up wondering around in makeup and frilly shirts as I was getting a job as a scarecrow! After that, for some reason, all went quiet, until about 1986. Then it was stuff out of the charts – Erasure, The Bangles, The Communards…I felt I was growing up; maybe it was the first stirrings of puberty. I continued the obsession with the charts for a few more years – I think it was 1990 when I finally gave up – but something profound happened in 1987…

I used to regularly watch “The Chart Show” on Friday nights on Channel 4. This was before it transferred to Saturday mornings on ITV (or Granada, as we called it in those days), and it was quite cult viewing really – none of my peers had even heard of it. I liked it because they showed all the pop videos of songs in the charts (no shit) – at the time, I only really had Top Of The Pops to “see” music, as it were. But on top of this, they had these specialist charts, with other music I’d never heard the like of before. I didn’t really like any of it, but one song seemed to be on week after week – it’s squealing chorus burning itself into my brain so much that I found it going around in my head constantly. Can you guess what it is yet? Ten house points if you got “Birthday” by The Sugarcubes. Cool eh? Not what most 11-year olds are into, not around these parts, anyway. And that was it for “indie” music really, I didn’t give it all a second thought for some time – I went back to Erasure and Wet Wet Wet.

Fast-forward a year, and most of my spare time was spent listening to the radio. I was obsessed with it. Our local station was called Marcher Sound, which was pretty slick for tin pot local radio in the 1980s. I used to listen to it in the morning before school, straight after school, and then most of the evening. I’m not saying I didn’t watch telly, but it seemed to take a backseat somewhat, and I was still to discover girls, at least properly. (by that I mean drinking Diamond White down the park with them, although that wouldn’t be far off). I became so engrossed in radio that I even started entering the phone-in competitions…

Marcher Sound: "Your Station, Your Sound!"

One of the DJs had an “indie” show called “MFM” on a Saturday or Sunday evening. Spence McDonald was his name. I can’t say I listened to it as a rule, but it was on. There was a competition to win the latest Sugarcubes single (“Deus”), and all you had to do was phone in and tell Spence from what country The Sugarcubes came. I phoned in and told him it was Iceland, and I won. He actually sent me a big bag of indie singles, to make up for the fact my prize took weeks to arrive. (amongst them was “Finest Worksong” by REM on IRS Records – probably worth a few quid now.) So now I had an indie record collection, at 12! I played them sporadically, in amongst the house music and hip-hop that was becoming my preference (I wasn’t that cool, I still listened to Deacon Blue and Hue & Cry more than anything else). Then, in 1989, it really happened. Two words – “Fools” and “Gold”…

I remember watching that fabled episode of Top Of The Pops in late 1989 with The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays on. I wasn’t really that impressed to be honest, but that bloody funky drummer beat of “Fools Gold” just kept hammering me and hammering me until I could take no more. That, and a song called “Shine On” by The House Of Love….early 1990 and I was lost to the cause.

That was it. My life would never be the same again. I found new friends based on this new music I was into, started looking at different girls, started growing my hair, wearing flares, spending every penny I could get my hands on at Phase One Records in Wrexham. That’s pretty much how my life is now….all my friends tend to be into similar music to me and the taste for indie girls hasn’t diminished (I don’t think I’ve ever had a girlfriend who wasn’t nuts about music). I can’t really grow my hair any more, I have tight Levi’s on at the moment, and I rarely buy music, but the sentiment is the same. Only I’m in my 30s now, and I’m rapidly turning into a grumpy old man - youthful exuberance has been replaced by ardent cynicism, but I still loves my music. I’m still an indie kid at heart. I’m hoping that will make this a reasonably interesting blog…I could be wrong, I could be right, to quote Public Image Limited. Cue Peter Cunnah…