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…