For me, and without in any way wishing to sidestep these narrative cornerstones, the charm of Jolly Lad (and for all the heavy stuff, it is a book filled with charm and that particular South Lancs/Scouse whimsy) is in its telling. It's tricksy.
From the opening scenes, it’s clear that Field Music know how to mesh the scenes in the film with appropriate music.
Assad makes Stavros sound like Sewell and would be pilloried. A punk standard with incomprehensible lyrics would disguise this flaw, as well as his inability to sing: demonstrated by his karaoke performance of Don’t Stop Believin’ at Mugabe’s ninetieth.
Textured white-linen envelope, hand-written address and was that a whiff of fondue and Nazi gold? The provenance was evident, especially considering the wax seal embossed with the hallowed crest of the European Broadcasting Company. The long wait was over.
Things are looking dire for Baz, and if he wants to avoid a future slurping Super Noodles in a damp Damascus bedsit whilst working on his right arm, he needs big bucks fast, which means a new job.
We asked ironclad foe of Eurovision Stephen James to talk about, well, Eurovision. This is what we got; Gonzo fiction from a parallel universe. The drugs are strong on Tyneside....
Shit this is a classic (non) listen, a pulsating “neverworld”, the womb of some crazy fucked up sky goddess who’s got kicked out of whatever astral plane she was residing on because she played her Borngräber & Strüver records too bloody loud…
Play More Alien than Aliens once and you’ll think I’m stark raving nuts and a massive lying bastard to boot. Play More Alien than Aliens more than three times, you’ll be out there.
As ever with Rob St John’s work, there’s an incredible amount of incidental detail that eventually (if you let matters slowly gestate) seeps into enriching the whole.
This is angry and aggressive, but if I lived in Belgium I’d probably produce music like this just to convince the rest of Europe that we’re not all bureaucrats.
Both these records are uncompromising, but neither revel in obscurity: and PAS Musique’s brilliant Abandoned Bird Egg is one record you really have to listen to.
Anyone (well, let’s be honest) everyone seems to knock out singles these days and sometimes it’s not really clear why. But Johnny 5th Wheel does it the right way.
This is the way modern folk seems to be; on the move interweaving different traditions, not linked to one place or rigidly labelled as appropriate for a certain bunch of people.
The result of inviting 10 contemporaries to build soundscapes out of their raw material is no more immediately accessible but full of chinstroking avant garde electronic gems.
As ever with Plant Duw, melodies are strong and often take the lead role in dictating the track’s direction; and there are opalescent moments throughout...
The raw numbness, the machinelike quality at the core of this music should not be underestimated. It’s almost abrasive in its nothingness.
They are superb actors, as a listener you are sucked into their world completely, there’s no looking for approval either, and with El Circulo / La Langosta we get another stunning display of bravura.
This is the autobiography of someone who seriously knows his onions musically: someone who I can credit with giving me something to dream about and think about, someone who planted some of the canes to wrap the tendrils of my very nascent social and cultural persona around.
Still, despite the book’s disarming nature, the list of memories are incredible: blazing and funny descriptions of Mudhoney’s and Nirvana’s first UK gigs, the debunking of the Oasis fight incident, and wide-eyed recollections of the Pixies and Throwing Muses double header…
On reading this one is reminded of the essential vanity of the music business, its inability to balance hope and reality, the way that the alien nature of how money works clashes with the utopianism that doing things on impulse (such as releasing challenging records) releases.