THE PLAIN

I needed rock, I needed verse-chorus-verse, I needed riffs, maybe I even needed a guitar solo. With hindsight I really did need a guitar solo. Instead I got Future Perfect by Autolux. I wanted to give it a chance, I did really, but I couldn’t stop the words ‘generic indie crap’ forming in my mind and by the third song it had gotten a lot nastier than that. What happened next you ask? Well I’d seen it sitting there, I’d read lots of positive reviews, but I didn’t really want to have to listen to the parent-friendly folk of Martha Wainwright. But it seemed so innocent, so inoffensive, I couldn’t resist. For a time its Joni Mitchell-esque swirls lifted my mood, then I got bored. So in desperation I put on Shopping for Images by Midaircondo. But, I so wasn’t in the mood for jazz inflected electronica. So in the dying hours of my musicothon I put on Diamond Head in the hope that some classic NWOBHM would do the trick but it was too late, nothing could save me and so I put on the TV and preceded to watch Heartbeat or the other one that’s like it that’s set in a Glen or something.

THE DEPRESSING

I imagine anyone familiar with Colder’s Heat would have put this bottom on the list of ‘warm bosom’ listening material. Jesus Christ, talk about depressing. No don’t. Depressing doesn’t do it justice. This is the soundtrack to seeing your cat get run over. I reckon I was on my 4th or 5th cup of tea by now and even its rejuvenating powers couldn’t save me. Why I then decided to put Black Dice’s Broken Ear Record on is something I can only put down to my disturbed state of mind at the time. If this is actually more accessible sounding than their previous stuff, as most reviews seem to suggest, then I guess I got off lightly, but to my poor ears, even Beaches & Canyons would have been a preferable option.

THE BORING

So with recommendations from a much esteemed source I ventured into an album by a band I’ve ignored because I thought they’d sound too folky and twee for me as many artists seem to do at the moment (I wasn’t going to mention how much I hate Joanna Newsom’s voice, but I couldn’t help it). Sons & Daughters’ Repulsion Box started off well enough, it was shouty and aggressive and if there were any fiddles, accordions or hurdy gurdies I couldn’t damn well hear them, thank Christ. But I was fast approaching my limits, less than midway through my album marathon I felt myself falter – those nice rock-sounding noises started to sound suspiciously like ‘celtic rock’ noises, like ‘whoops’ and ‘yeearrrs’. I should have stopped there put up with whatever crap Sunday afternoon TV could have thrown at me (or watched a beloved episode of Robin of Sherwood), but I thought I had the solution. The Horrorpops album Hell Yeah suggested two minute punk-based pop blasts that would re-new my flagging aural capabilities. It lasted for two songs, before the singer decided that she wanted to be Gwen Stefani. And to think I’d almost fallen for The Misfits comparison. I managed to get to track 6. In rapid retreat I sought familiar territory in the shape of Broadcast’s Tender Buttons. Maybe I’m alone in preferring The Noise Made by People to their subsequent material, but Tender Buttons sounded way too much like Ha Ha Sound to me – cold, detached, a bit scary. I needed a warm bosom to comfort me in my 45 minutes of need and this just wasn’t it.

THE GOOD/EXCELLENT

I started off with much enthusiasm around 11am with Cobra Killer’s 76-77. Doing silly, faux cabaret dances and being from Berlin had made me snigger a little the occasions on which I’d seen these girls live, but I had fairly low hopes for this one. I didn’t care at this point though, nothing could bring me down, I was probably drinking a nice cup of tea while I was listening to it. And lo and behold I actually enjoyed it, despite the opener sounding uncannily similar to the joke-version-of-the-kind-of-song-an-‘arty’-girl-duo-from-Berlin-would-do I had in my head, there was actually a few songs on there. ’10,000 Tissues’ was especially song-like. Next up I was fairly certain I was onto a winner – Ladytron’s latest The Witching Hour. Things had just stepped up a notch. Sounding even less electroclash than they had ever sounded, which wasn’t very, this was all that I expected plus some and sounded as far from Berlin as Birmingham, or wherever the hell they’re from. The second song did it for me, ‘Destroy Everything You Touch’ is the pinnacle. Even the ropey Trevor Jackson remixes of ‘Sugar’ couldn’t stunt my buoyant mood at this juncture. And although the embryo of a rant about the ‘dance-floorifying’ of music was gestating at the back of my mind, it was… er, rapidly aborted before birth could take place (apologies for that tasteless metaphor).

THIS IS NOT AN ALBUM REVIEW

It’s a music based story that just so happens to include my thoughts on some albums I was listening to, alright. Although they are the subject of the story too… them and er… my feelings as the experience progressed. Yeah ‘feelings’, terribly ‘blog’ I know.
I’d been too busy (also the reason I’ve written nothing for ages) to listen to these albums one by one, so foolishly, I decided to listen to them all in one sitting. My advice: don’t do it, just don’t. The music disappears and you’re left with hiss and drone, kind’ve like something off the Rune Grammofon label minus the artistic intentions. Others have commented on the subject of

Metal Gods

As if there wasn't enough proof already that 'the Maiden' are the best band ever, their show at Reading was sublime. Why? Why? I'm trying to keep this blog entry short, don't tempt me to try some improv epic poetry. The best bits: Bruce almost welling as the crowd spontaneously start chanting 'Maiden, Maiden' (why hasn't this man been knighted?), Satan himself on stage (that red blob to the lower left of the guy doing a 'devil's horns' hand), The Phantom of the Opera, Murders in the Rue Morgue, Running Free, Run to the Hills, Number of the Beast, Prowler.... etc.