50 quid bloke

Spurred on by a remarkably flattering review in the Observer I’ve bought and spent the last week or so listening to Alphabetical by Pheonix: a thoroughly excellent second album from the French quartet. All the more remarkable for the fact that it’s all recorded in English. It’s smart, sophisticated feel-good pop. You should try it.
I was nearly put off it, however, by the press release for the album on their site. Now, us mere mortals never used read press releases about albums with their mix of hard sell and pseudy muso-bollocks. They were - as with all press releases - a hidden dialogue between PRs and journalists. However, now that bands have websites they put their press releases up on display for everyone to see. Big mistake. In a desperate attempt to sell the band they have to resort to some right old lit-crit-wannabee rubbish. In the case of Phoenix, they have a slight excuse in that it’s probably a translation from French, but have a read of this:

Alphabetical is a very complete, uncompromising work. It’s modern yet timeless, plurarlist yet singular, eleborate but never labored. It is a work of nuance and subtlety that never crosses the line into affection and superficiality; a work of remarkable diversity and coherence. Phoenix have a rare mastery of the lyric, words entwining themselves around and within, yet always at the service of the song.

Honestly. Does that actually tell you anything about the music? Still, it’s not as bad as the review in Stylus magazine that reads: “One could see Alphabetical as a Debordian triumph of style over substance, an exercise in weightless transience, or one could see it is a fine, concise, unflinchingly contemporary pop record….”, and then concludes, without, I believe, a hint of irony:

Guy Debord’s revolutionary 1968 text (a contributing factor in kicking off the Paris student riots) The Society Of The Spectacle, begins “the whole life of the societies in which modern conditions of production prevail presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles.” You could suggest that his text, laden with near impenetrable linguistic turns, is a confluence of spectacles in itself. Alphabetical is almost certainly another, but it’s a lot more pleasurable, and as the sun gets hotter and hotter, Alphabetical just gets better and better.

OK, OK enough already. We get the message: you’ve read a book or two. Well done. But just saying: 8 out of 10 and ‘Buy it’ would have been fine.

I can’t claim to have done the full Glastonbury thing: we had to head home on Saturday afternoon to be at a friend’s wedding in the evening. And, as ever, more time was spent either trudging round, waiting and trying to find people than actually seeing or doing anything. But on the whole, it was brilliant. Probably even more so for the fact that we knew we’d be leaving quite early, and therefore could throw ourselves into the proceedings right from the word go.
The football on Thursday night was spectacular - apart from the teeny matter of the result. We were in front of the pyramid stage, quite close to the front watching, completely engrossed. When suddenly, I looked behind me and saw 50,000 others watching it. Incredible. We didn’t win, but it was a great way to get things going.
The first bit of Friday was spent shaking of Thursday’s hangover. Badly Drawn Boy was the only one of the bands I catched during the day that really made an impact: despite his slightly shambling stage presence and a rather peculiar appearance by Bez (yes, Bez). He played my two favourite songs back to back: Have you Fed the Fish and You were right, which is all you can ask for, really.
Heading back to the campervan for an afternoon freshen up, I walked passed Kate Moss. There I was: face beaming red with sun burn, muddy shorts and crappy straw cowboy hat. If I’d known she was coming, I might at least have worn a different hat.
Franz Ferdinand were great, except I was slightly distracted by being re-introduced to someone I went out with 20 years ago, and hadn’t seen since. Kings of Leon were frankly pretty poor. As hard as I try, just can’t quite get to like them.
Then to Oasis, who were excellent entertainment - apart from the mush that followed every time we heard the dread words: ‘This is a new song’. I saw them at Maine Road in 96: and then they were beyond brilliant - absolutely at their peak. Now, all that’s left is their past glories: but frankly, you can’t argue with 60,000 people singing along to Champagne Supernova or Don’t Look Back in Anger.
After that: well, it’s all the stuff you don’t see on the TV. A gang of us shambled off to Lost Vagueness, then another place, then to The Crown (the Budweiser spnsored dance tent).where I experienced one of my greatest ever dancefloor moments: after hours of full on techno with hundreds of sweaty bodies making the same repetitive dance steps, it suddenly went incredibly quiet. Then through the speakers came: ‘Toniii-ght…I’m gonna have my-self a real gooooood time…I feel ali-i-i-ive’ and there you had it in the middle of a dance tent: 300 sweaty ravers going absolutely mental to Queen. Then we had Pulps’s Common People…and finally ending with Hotel California. Not convinced? I guess you really had to be there.
More shambling round through the Green fields. More falafel. Was that Damien Rice playing in that tent? And finally off to the stone circle to watch the sun rise.
And, what a sunrise. Glorious red filled the sky, people sat around campfires or wandered around shouting out the names of lost friends, drummers drummed trying to bring the sun up: and then, as if by magic a perfect rainbow appeared behind us. Suddnly a few hundred people went: ‘wooooh’, before realising that a rainbow normally means that there’s rain around. And sure enough, it started half an hour later. So, the remaining four of us trudged home at around 5.30 ending probably my best ever Glastonbury night.
We awoke around mid-day with a minor problem. Someone’s car had blocked our camper van in and we had to leave. Closer scrutiny revealed it was Vince Power. But he very kindly moved it.
Arrived back in London around 8pm after the drive from hell. Parked up outside my parents (who live in W1, near the wedding), and as I pulled the camper van in, flames erupted out of the passenger side of the van. For the first time in my life, I used a fire extinguisher in anger. Put it out. We showered, got dressed. Jumped into a cab and went and joined the real world at our wedding.
The campervan is now in hospital.

Off to Glastonbury. First time in a campervan, which should be exciting. Don’t expect a full and lucid report back…

I’ve been listening to ‘I’ by the Magnetic Fields for a few weeks now. I haven’t wanted to write anything about it on here, because the whole Magentic Fields/ Stephin Merritt thing is very new to me, and I feel like a late intruder at a family party.
I only heard about them recently by browsing someone else’s iTunes library at work (a few of us share..it’s very co-operative if a little competitive) and coming across an album with 69 tracks: his classic 69 Love Songs.
Little did I know I’d stumbled on something so universally acclaimed so incredibly late (yet again).
So, I is a great album. But I’m not going to get any further drawn than that. I read a dissertation-like review by journalist and fan Douglas Wolk in the Nation the other week (unfortunately, not on their site), and frankly after that, anything I say will feel quite leaden and clumsy. Will be following his blog in future.
The one thing I can add is that with those smart lyrics, catch melodies and deep croony voice…it really, really reminded me of a mellowed down version of the greatest band to come out of Northampton: The Jazz Butcher.
I’d completely forgotten about the sheer wonder that is JB’s Scandal In Bohemia. If you’ve one of the Magne-scenti, and you’ve never heard it, you should give it a go. Even if you’re not you should. Go ahead: make an 80s almost pop-star very happy.

Uncut apparently labled one track on Grand National’s Kicking the National Habit as: “‘Roxanne meets ‘Born Slippy’ with Alan Rankine, of Associates, on keyboards’. What this means, I have no idea. Even their own website describes them as band “that combines the angular guitars, pounding basslines and heady euphoria of New Order and the Mondays with the metropolitan nouse and witty introspection of bands like Blur,” which again is a bit of a muddle.
What it does show is just how difficult it is to place this album. It is, frankly, a right old mish mash.
I spent a fair chunk of a train ride up to Shrewsbury on Saturday listening to it. I liked it, and I can tell it’s very good; but, partly because it’s so unusual, couldn’t quite get to love it. That’s going to take a bit of time.
You can listen to bits of it here. Oh, and judging by this review of a recent gig (only their third), shows they’re clearly a great, errr, studio band.
UPDATE Further listening reveals hints of 10cc and Hall and Oates…just so you know.

Well, he doesn’t hit it as much as completely murders it. The only possible excuse for this cover was as an act of charity in order to earn Gil Scott Heron some royalties. Because, frankly, he’s gone and messed it all up. If you don’t believe me, you can find a link to listen to it here.
If, however, he chose it because it truly is the best of the covers on his new album, then it’s a warning to stay clear,
May I suggest, that , if you don’t already have it, you buy Gil Scott Heron and Brian Jackson’s album Winter In America, which not only has the original of the Bottle on it, but also the truly fantastic track Back Home.

Observer Music Magazine this weekend has a list of the top 100 British albums. It’s a great issue, and they’ve put the list together by asking dozens of musical luminaries, and you should buy the paper on Sunday. However, I’ve just seen it (one of the perks of the job), and Solid Air isn’t in the list; but Nick Drake seems to be all over it. It’s Nickrophilia gone mad. Where’s my green fountain pen? OK, ignore that. My mistake. Solid Air makes it in at 46. I am a happy man. And the issue is excellent. The celebrity top 10s are worth it on their own. Can agree with Dizzee Rascal being included, though….in anything, ever..

A significant historical moment this week, when I received an e-mail from Mark Desvaux, the head of music at TRL Music in Cambridge saying (swoon) he likes my blog and (double swoon) he’d like to send me a CD.
And, sure enough, this morning it arrived: my first freebie. It’s an EP from a band called The Urban Myth Club . How spectacularly exciting.
The only problem is, and I hate to say this, I don’t really like it. Well, it’s a nice enough piece of ambient/ chill out, but it doesn’t really go anywhere. I kept listening thinking something was going to happen…and ended up disappointed.
However, I still think you should buy it. In fact, fuck it, I’m going to buy a copy as well as the free copy I’ve been given, for the following reasons.
1. Because it’s my first 50 quid bloke freebie and I have to show gratitude some way.
2. Because if lots of people buy it, it’ll become clear that blogs are a good way to promote music, and therefore lots of bloggers will get lots of free CDs.
3. Because, it’s not actually that bad and I’ve got rubbish taste, and you may well really, really love it and end up having it played to start the dancing at your wedding. In fact, the more I listen to it….
4. Because it can’t cost that much and I’ve spent a lot more on a lot worse.
5. Because they’re probably really nice people, who’ve put a lot of effort into this EP and they deserve the break.
The only problem is, I can’t find out where you can buy it. However, you can sample it all here, and have your say. If you even vaguely like it, I suggest you mail Urban Myth Club and say: ‘I have to get hold of your Secret EP. How much is it? Will £100 do?’. And sharpish.

In the US now, it seems Napster is giving out free MP3 players to anyone subscribing for a full year. Basically for a $120 sub, you get a $130 Rio Chiba.
I’m a big fan of subs: and I’m convinced this is the way things are heading. My dream service is a fixed amount each month to be able to listen to anything I want. Napster has the business model right for this, but, unfortunately, not the catalogue - well not yet, at least.
It’s the reverse of the way that the phone market developed: that started with subsidised handsets for subscribers and moved on to pay as you go. Music has started as pay as you go…but now it’s making inroads into subsidised handsets and subscription. But all this talk of business models is starting to feel like work, so I’ll shut up.

Spent my first serious time last night playing around on iTunes music store (iTMS as its friends call it). I’m Desperately impressed with the way it fits with the iTunes software and your own playlists, your iPod etc. A really beautiful, end-to-end digital music solution as the brochure would probably say. (bar the wirelessly connected Hi-Fi base unit - which I’m sure is on it’s way…after all, they don’t want to leave it to Sonos, do they?).
But, without the music I want, it’s rather like someone giving you a beautiful wardrobe, but stealing all your clothes.
So, here’s what we know. We know they’ve had a row, or at least can’t agree, with the indies.
Apple apparently didn’t realise just how important the independent labels are here. They account for 1/4 of sales, much higher than in the US and making them effectively a major in their own right. Not only that, but they account for loads of bands that are very, very suited to the iTunes market (ie: me).
Also, apparently, they only sent over the contracts to all the indies at the very last minute, so everyone is kicking up a fuss, and negotiating: well, why wouldn’t they?
[So last minute was the whole thing that Apple, apparently, had the wrong German words for ‘Choose store’ when it opened.]
Someone who seems to know, tells me that the labels want a better wholesale price for each track sold. The price currently on offer is 50-something pence out of the 79 pence, but they also want to see some of the spoils if Apple puts the price up (although whether they’ll be happy to see a cut if Apple has to drop prices is unclear).
All of this sounds like a necessary bit of posturing on both sides. The indies obviously have to prove from the outset that they need to be factored in before Apple moves. Apple needs to prove that iTunes can be a success without them.
The irony is that you would imagine if there is a strand of music that Apple as a brand should most identify with; or a sector of the industry that is most likely to have Macs in its offices: it’ll be the indies. I’m sure they’ll kiss and make up. But if they don’t, I sense iTunes will be the loser.